


The Lincoln Chronicles, Part 2

by LadyShadowWalker



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Linctavia - Freeform, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 50,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowWalker/pseuds/LadyShadowWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canonverse Linctavia. The 100 from Lincoln's point of view, starting with after he rescues Octavia from the battle at the end of We Are Grounders, Part 2 and covering all of Season 2. Chapters with * denote NSFW.</p><p>40 chapters and 50k words in 60 days!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Seek Safe Passage

 

 

* * *

Lincoln carried Octavia all through the night, trying to get as far away from the battle as possible. He began reciting phrases in _Trigedasleng_ for her to learn as a way to distract them both from what they had left behind.

“ _Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru_ ,” he said.

“ _Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru_ ,” she repeated, her voice a mere whisper. She was falling asleep on him again.

“Hey, hey.” He jostled her. Her eyes fluttered open. “You need to stay awake for me, okay?” Her eyes were glossy and he could feel the heat emanating from her through their layers of clothing. He was terrified the arrowhead in her leg was poisoned. “Say it again.”

“ _Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru_.”

They finally reached the river at daybreak. He had picked a spot on the river in an area out of the way of where the _Trikru_ usually roamed but with the luck they had been having…. He looked around, not seeing signs anyone had been through recently. He set her down on the bank and propped her up against some driftwood while he started building a fire. He needed to get the arrowhead out before it dislodged into her leg and caused even more damage.

“Say it again,” he told her.

“ _En ai gaf gouthru klir_ ,” she mumbled. “ _En ai gaf gouthru klir_ , _en ai gaf gouthru klir_.” She yawned, her eyes drifting close.

“You need to stay awake, Octavia.”

She nodded and began digging through her bag. She dragged his journal out and Lincoln’s heart clenched seeing she had kept it safe for him once again. “Distract me, Lincoln.” She began flipping through the pages of his journal, opening it to an image of a Mountain Man. “Who’s this?”

“That’s a Mountain Man, the ones I warned you about.” He got the fire lit and began stoking it. “They have technology like your people. Guns, bombs, missiles.”

He set his dagger into the flames to heat it and then checked on Octavia again, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her head toward the morning sun. She was too pale and her pupils weren’t dilating properly. He closed his eyes as he placed a kiss on her forehead, praying to the ancestors that it was shock and not poison causing the reaction.

He stood up and turned toward the river, wading in. “Say it again, this time all of it together.” Lincoln bent down and began gathering up moss from the rocks in the shallows of the riverbed.

She grumbled but complied. “ _Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru en ai gaf gouthru klin_.”

“ _Klir_ , not _klin_.” Lincoln bit back an unintentional laugh. She had just said she was Octavia of the Sky People and she wanted to commit suicide. “ _Gothru klir_. Again.”

Octavia rolled her head back in exasperation.

“I’m Octavia of the Sky People and I seek safe passage,” he said, prompting her.

“Why do I even have to learn this? You speak English.”

Lincoln stood up with his handful of river moss and walked back over to her. “Only our warriors speak English. When we get to the sea, you need to sound like one of us.” He knelt down beside her, his hand on her thigh, turning it toward him so he was able to see the entrance of the shaft into her leg. The arrowhead appeared firmly attached still. That was good; it meant it would be easy to remove.

“Then we have time.” She was breathing heavy now. She held his journal out to him, opened to a page. “Tell me about this one.”

He glanced over at the upside-down sketch. “A statue near my village. A place we go to settle disputes.” He returned his attention to her leg, bracing himself to do what needed to be done.

Her fingers tilted his chin back to her face. “Stop stalling and pull it out.” He obeyed and she gasped in pain as he covered the wound with the cold, wet moss. “No warning? Nothing?” He picked up the heated blade from the fire, finding himself in an all too familiar situation with her again.

She eyed the hot, red knife in his hand. “I take it back. No warning is better.”

He lifted up the river moss and pressed the blade against her thigh, cauterizing the puncture wound.

“Aah-ugh!” Octavia panted from the pain.

Lincoln continued holding the moss against her thigh as he stabbed the hot dagger into the ground. He picked up the arrowhead, inspecting it. He brought the tip up to his tongue, spitting when he tasted the bitter poison. He looked over to Octavia, dread in his eyes.

“I’m guessing this means you don’t have the antidote?” she asked.

“No. I gave it to Finn to save Raven,” he said as he bandaged up her leg. His entire medicine pack for one life and they were all probably dead by now anyway. Damn Finn!

“So, we go back.”

“It’s too far.” His voice broke, knowing they’d never make it there in time and not wanting to take her back to see the death and destruction his people had wrought on hers.

“It’s further to the sea.”

“Dammit!” He bowed his head in frustration. There was only one place close enough to get the antidote but it would mean his life in exchange for hers. It just wasn’t fair.

She read his mind. “Lincoln, we are not going back to your village.” He looked back up at her. “You know what they do to traitors.”

“Octavia….”

“Death by a thousand cuts!” He shook his head at her. He should have never told her about that. “Every single member of your clan will take a turn stabbing you and then they’ll feed you to the bugs. It’s what you told me.”

Bugs. Lincoln suddenly had a thought. He grabbed his sword off the log and passed it to her. “Here take this.” He caught her face in his hands. She was sweaty and pasty. The poison was already starting to hit her harder. “Hey, hey.” He made sure she was focused on him. “I will be right back.”

“Lincoln, where are you going?” she asked worriedly.

“The antidote. It comes from the beetles that feed on the river moss.” He cradled her cheek, smiling. “You’re gonna feed on the beetles.” He nodded. “It’ll work.” It had to.

He was apprehensive about leaving her alone for too long so he needed to hurry. He took off running down the riverbank looking for a spot nearby where the beetles would most likely be found. Again, they seemed to be doomed. Every rock he turned over, every spot he dug, and he had yet to find any beetles. Octavia’s screams jarred him from his search and set his heart pounding with fear. He leaped up from his crouched position, adrenaline pushing him faster, never having been so scared in his life as he was at that moment.

He saw her on the river bank, staggering to rise, using his sword as a crutch and he wanted to cry in relief that she wasn’t under attack. “Octavia! Octavia, what is it?” he shouted as he ran up to her. She was stumbling all over the place, her breath heaving in and out as she pointed his sword at him. “Hey, What-what’s wrong? What—.” She fell back from him in horror. He caught her, holding onto her face so she could see it was him.

“There’s someone down—.” Her eyes darted wildly from side-to-side. She was near hysterics. “It was-it was a-a monster!” She gasped out.

Her teeth were chattering, her cheeks were hot in his palms, she was hallucinating. “It’s the poison. You’re burning up.” He tugged her up to her feet. “We have to hurry.” He picked her up and slung her sideways over his shoulders and behind his head so he could see while running with her. His right arm grasped her leg and his other hand propped her head up and he took off with her into the forest. “I know what we have to do.”

“What are you doing? Where are we going?”

“Just hold on.” He wasn’t going to tell her if he didn’t have to. She would hopefully be unconscious by the time they arrived, otherwise she would never agree. He was going to his village. It was the only way to save her.


	2. Almost to the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln returns to his village for the antidote and runs into Nyko again.

* * *

He carried her through the woods, his pace slowing the closer they got to the village where he grew up. “Say it, Octavia.”

“ _Ai laik Okteivia kom Skaikru en ai gaf gouthru klir_ ,” she dutifully replied.

“Once more. Come on, say it.” The longer she was conscious the more time they had. “Come on.”

“ _Ai laik Okteivia kom Skai_ – you know, you still haven't even told me where we're going.” She was shivering from the fever.

“Can't you smell it?” he asked her. “We're almost to the sea.” He lied to her for the first time and he didn’t feel guilty.

“No, I can't smell anything.” Her voice quivered. “Lincoln, I'm scared.”

For his fierce warrior to be scared made his own fear more potent. He picked up speed, sprinting now, his dread of returning to his village outweighed by his need to save her. They arrived shortly at the statue she had asked about in his journal, the one near his village. He brought her up the steps and laid her down, leaning her up against a pillar. He pushed the hair back from her sweaty face, seeing she was still barely conscious.

“Now sleep,” he said tenderly. “Be back with the antidote as soon as I can.” He took off his sword and his bag, setting them down next to her. He dug through the bag, looking for a container to transport the antidote in. He wasn’t going to steal the village’s entire supply if he didn’t have to.

“You brought me to your village?”

He had hoped she wouldn’t notice. “I won't let you die.” He turned back to rummaging through his bag.

“Lincoln….” She panted. “Lincoln–.”

He looked back over at her; she was delirious again, panicking. He didn’t have much time before she started seizing. “Hey, hey.” He came back over to her side.

“They'll kill you,” she sighed out.

“Hey.” He cupped her cheek, directing her to focus on him again. “Only if they catch me.” He stroked a tendril of hair back from her face. “Stay alive.” He gave her what he hoped was a small smile. “And stay quiet.” He allowed himself one last look at her again, saving another image of her to his memory. So many more times he had seen his angel than he had ever hoped. He took off again, back to his village, back to accepting a traitor’s death once more.

* * *

As Lincoln approached _Tondisi_ , he headed into the trees. There was less chance he’d be caught and he could drop down anywhere over the walls, specifically behind Nyko’s hut. He was baffled as he spotted only four archers in the trees and two guards on the fence, all of whom were much too easy to avoid. He snuck into Nyko’s hut undetected and began hunting around for the antidote, trying to be as discreet as possible in his search.

“Lincoln.”

Lincoln spun around, startled that he hadn’t heard Nyko enter, having forgotten how quiet the _Trikru_ were in comparison to the Sky People.

“Nyko, I…I….” Lincoln had no idea what to say.

Nyko sighed heavily. “Five minutes. That’s how long it will take before Indra realizes you’re here.” Before Nyko raised the alarm, he meant.

Lincoln nodded. “I need the antidote from the beetles.”

Nyko inspected him, looking for an injury and not finding one. “For her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what they did?” Nyko asked as he retrieved from a shelf a large bottle filled with a pink liquid.

“We left before Tristan and Anya breached their wall,” Lincoln said as he watched Nyko pour a portion of the antidote into a small container.

“They burned three hundred warriors.” Nyko seethed, slamming down the bottle. “Tristan’s Unit, Anya’s, Indra’s, most everyone is gone. Our village is now vulnerable. We are defenseless against the Reapers and the Mountain Men and now the Sky People because of you.” Nyko finished his rant, angrier than Lincoln had ever seen him.

“I had no idea.” But he should have known. Unlike his angel of mercy, Clarke was an angel of death and Lincoln had saved her life. He wanted to mourn the people lost, his people, but he felt he no longer had the right. He was the traitor all along and he deserved his punishment. “Please, Nyko.” He begged his friend. “I need you to help her for me.”

“Why? Why should I let one of them live when they took so many lives from us?”

Lincoln looked away. “You don’t understand.”

“Is she still worth it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll help you, my brother.” Nyko placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I never thought I’d see you fall in love.” Nyko finally smiled at Lincoln, showing he did understand. “You have three minutes left. Tell me more about this Sky Girl of yours and where I can find her.”


	3. Something I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of Indra! Torture warning: Lincoln suffers from the Death of a Thousand Cuts before Octavia saves him.

* * *

Barely another minute passed after Nyko left to go save Octavia before Indra, the Chief of _Tondisi_ , arrived. She stood in the doorway, both foreboding and forbearing. “ _Natrona_.” She spit at him. “You should’ve run when Anya gave you the chance.”

Lincoln sighed and stood, holding his hands out in surrender.

She gestured to Penn and Fio behind her. “Put him on the tree.” They came around her to grab him and drag him out of Nyko’s hut. They marched him through the center of the village and brought him to the tree there, tying his hands above his head and to the post.

Indra came to stand in front of him, holding up a dagger. “You should’ve stayed away,” she said sadly before turning to the small crowd that had gathered. Nyko wasn’t wrong; their numbers were significantly depleted. “Justice will be done. Lincoln chose to betray his people. Anyone he has wronged here today shall have a turn with the knife.” She looked back at Lincoln. “ _Jus drein jus daun_!”

“ _Jus drein jus daun_!” It was little more than a murmur from the crowd, most of whom had known Lincoln all his life and many of whose lives he had saved at one time or another.

Lincoln grinned at Indra. He was willing to die for his crimes but at least he would be missed. Indra stepped closer to him, lifting the edge of his shirt. Her mouth opened, like she wanted to say something, perhaps ask why, maybe apologize. But then her gaze turned hard and Lincoln felt the blade cut into the skin along his stomach. His expression remained peaceful and stoic, accepting the pain, accepting his punishment, comforted in knowing that Nyko would save Octavia.

 _Octavia_. Just as he survived her brother’s torture with thoughts of his angel, he now suffered through this torture by playing back the memories of the times they spent together. Quint had a turn with the knife, for his brother and cousins who were lost in the battle. Tomac for the bridge explosion. Sindri for the village burned to the ground. The sting from the cuts prickled and burned. Lincoln replayed the days he’d spent training Octavia, teaching her how to protect herself and be independent enough to survive on her own. Young Artigas followed after his mother and father, also cutting him for the loss of two aunts and an uncle. Fio had lost family to the Sky People so he had a turn as well.

Lincoln’s skin began to tingle and tighten and the blade now seemed to tickle and scratch instead of slice. Nyko would give Octavia the antidote and then Octavia would follow the map in his journal to the sea. Luna would take her in and keep her safe and she would live. That was all that mattered. Penn took his turn, cutting him for what the Sky People had taken from him. And there was another old friend with another grievance against the Sky People. And another and another. Numbness had set in. Each time the knife drew across his flesh, it felt almost a release.

One of the guards from the gate came running up, momentarily halting his death sentence. Whatever she whispered into Indra’s ear caused Indra to shoot Lincoln a severe look. She then turned around and swiftly followed the guard to the gate.

“ _Ai laik Okteivia kom Skaikru_ and you have something I want!” Octavia’s voice carried out from the other side of the wall and it was the sweetest yet most horrifying sound to his ears. Nyko had obviously saved her, but…. Oh, gods! What had his insane angel done now?

He wasn’t able to hear anything else for too long. Did Indra have the archers shoot Octavia immediately? Was she now captured and about to be brought in and tied up beside him?

Octavia’s voice rang through again, just a snippet. “…ANYONE ELSE….” He pursed his lips, trying to keep back a smile. She was still alive and she sounded furious.

Indra re-entered moments later, alone. She hadn’t captured Octavia. Lincoln’s breathing grew heavy as his chest constricted at the thought that Octavia might now be dead outside these very walls. Indra strode toward him; her serious countenance was even more stern than usual. At least he would be joining Octavia shortly. He leaned his head back against the pole and closed his eyes, imagining his angel’s face one last time.

“I should have known you’d pick one like her.”

Lincoln opened his eyes, uncertain if Indra was taunting him or pitying him.

“She just bartered your life for Nyko’s.” Indra snorted. “As if you’re worth as much as Nyko.”

He remained silent as he tried not to think if Octavia had paid for it with her own life.

“Cut him down,” she called out to Fio and Penn. “I can’t lose our only healer, now can I?”

* * *

It was slow-going as Lincoln led Indra out of the village without telling her their destination. His right leg was the worst of his injuries; a particularly nasty gash from the sadistic Quint that caused him to tread carefully across the uneven ground. He still found himself smiling. His brilliant angel had given Indra until dark to make the trade, saving his life without anyone having to lose honor just as she had saved Finn’s life before.

“Nyko was cooperating with her,” Indra stated, confirming what Lincoln already suspected.

“Is that why you didn’t have her shot?” He didn’t dare directly ask if it were because she had relented to Nyko’s judgment.

Indra stopped walking behind him and Lincoln turned around, seeing the rage and grief she normally kept well hidden.  “Three hundred warriors, Lincoln." She reminded him.

Lincoln shook his head. “It wasn’t her,” he said in good conscience. He knew Octavia had killed _Trikru_ warriors before he arrived at the Sky People’s camp; she had sobbed into his chest about it on their run to the river. He himself had killed Vik, but they had both done so in defense.  “She was with me. We left before that happened.”

“She is one of them.” Indra sneered.

“But you didn’t kill her when you had the chance.”

Indra sighed. “She had a sword to Nyko’s throat. I wasn’t willing to risk it.” Lincoln remained quiet, knowing that wasn’t enough risk for her to stop her highly skilled archers. “Besides, I’ve known you since you were a boy,” she finally admitted.

Lincoln nodded back, understanding what Indra didn’t say. She had ultimately spared their lives for his sake just as Anya had done, just as Nyko had done. These were the people he was loyal to, not to people like Vik or Quint or Caliban. His throat clogged and he swallowed tightly before turning around and continuing on toward Octavia.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked.

They were far enough away from the village now that he could tell her. “She has a dispute to settle with you. Where do you think?”

Indra shot him an incredulous look and he simply smirked back.

* * *

They arrived at the statue just after dusk, the evening sky still aglow from the setting sun. Indra held Lincoln back. “We make her wait.”

Octavia was so close; Lincoln felt her energy in the air, calling out to him, beckoning him to her side. His feet itched to move forward and push through the trees in order to see her but Indra’s sword poking into his back stalled him. She finally shoved him forward and he limped his way through the brush and into the clearing.

“Lincoln?” His diminutive angel was at the other end of the clearing, pointing a sword at his behemoth of a best friend’s throat, and he had never been more proud. “He’s hurt!” She sounded so outraged, so offended. He grinned. They were mere scratches, as he would tell her when she fussed over him later.

“He should be dead,” Indra snapped back.

Lincoln turned to Indra, respectfully waiting for her command. She nodded and he cautiously made his way toward Octavia as Octavia released Nyko. Lincoln paused when the other man approached, trying to express his gratitude and regret to his friend. Finally, there was only Octavia before him, his angel who had saved him once again with her ingenuity. She was alive and well and he was alive and…well, still standing at least. He smiled for her to let her know at last, everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter crosses over with Indra's story, [Chit Yu Gaf?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5348378/chapters/12350600).


	4. Pray You Never Find Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture warning: Lincoln suffers through the Mount Weather decontamination process (just like Bellamy).

 

 

 

* * *

Everything was _not_ going to be okay. He saw movement behind Octavia’s head, figures coming out of the dark. One came at Octavia with a battle ax. “REAPERS!” he screamed as Octavia turned and deflected the ax with her sword. More came out from all around, swarming them. His hands were still tied and he couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening. He ducked and dodged the oncoming blows, watching as Nyko and Indra were also quickly overrun.

He whirled around another Reaper and knocked back two more only to see Octavia lying on the ground, terrifyingly still. “Octavia!” he shouted. It took two of the superhuman monsters to restrain him. “Octavia!” He swore her eyes fluttered. It required another two of the creatures to haul him off. “OCTAVIA!”

He fought, he kicked, he shouted for Octavia, but he was no match for the impossibly resilient Reapers and he was eventually subdued; bound, gagged, blindfolded, and tied to a log like all the other unfortunate souls who disappeared into the Mountain once the Reapers got them.

* * *

They trudged along through the night and well into the next day before Lincoln smelled the cold, dank, miasma of the tunnels. It was now too late for him. His thoughts went to Octavia as they often did leading up to his impending death. Hell, his thoughts were always about Octavia; since she fell into his life, he was always about to die. He would have laughed if his situation weren’t so dire.

They eventually came to a stop and were untied from the log. Still gagged and blindfolded, they were undressed down to their underwear. Lincoln briefly tried to fight back but there were at least six Reapers and he wasn’t able to see a damn thing. Besides, he’d never find his way out of the Reaper-infested tunnels without a map. They were quickly lined up and kicked to their knees. Lincoln prayed for a quick death. He had seen the bodies in the mine carts and did not want to be one of those left barely alive.

“Hurry,” one of the Reapers said, surprising Lincoln that they communicated through language.

Their gags and blindfolds were removed and Lincoln found himself kneeling alongside four others, none of whom he recognized, all from different clans, giving him hope that Octavia and the others had escaped.

“We get Red then we eat,” another Reaper said as a beep on Lincoln’s right brought his attention to the end of the tunnel. A door there swung open and a shrill, loud tone echoed through the tunnel, causing the Reapers to fall to their knees, clutching at their ears.

It was the Mountain Men. They came streaming out from the door in their baggy green armor and war masks, carrying vials of a red substance. A woman encapsulated in a blue suit followed after with the door shutting behind her. The Reapers lined up and the Mountain Men began shooting them full of the red liquid. One of the Reapers knelt down, waiting for its turn and Lincoln recognized the brute with a sense of dread. The Reaper had been part of the group who chased Lincoln out of the tunnels when he had saved Clarke and Finn. Some way or another, it had eventually tracked Lincoln to _Tondisi_. Lincoln had once again betrayed his people by bringing the Reapers to them.

The woman in blue walked to the far end of the line, inspecting each captive knelt before her. “Harvest,” she said to the first one before moving on. “Harvest,” she said to the second and to the third. She bypassed the fourth when she spotted Lincoln. “Mark this one for the Cerberus program.” The armed guard behind her nodded and suddenly Lincoln was grabbed from behind by two men and dragged off through the door. Lincoln began to fight, knowing that once he was through the door, there was no escape, knowing there had been no escape once the Reapers had caught him, but still refusing to give up. He felt a sting in his side, like an insect bite, just as he managed to elbow one of the guards hard enough in the stomach to let him go. He felt another sting as he wrestled away from th–.

* * *

Lincoln awoke flat on his back, stripped naked, and shackles around his wrists and neck.

“He’s awake! He’s awake! Hold him steady.” Three Mountain Men stood around him with metal poles hooked into the shackles, trapping him in place. “Dr. Tsing is right; this guy’s a beast.”

They yanked him to his feet and pinned him to a rock wall and then…. Lincoln choked back the screams as he was pressure-washed with boiling water. They kicked his legs farther apart before forcing him around and scalding the front of him. Small whimpers escaped as all the healing slice marks broke open again and bled anew from the onslaught of the water.

It got worse when they started throwing a yellow powder over him, caking him in it. His burned skin felt an open wound and it was like salt against it. The actual open wounds…. “Uhh.” A moan tore from his lips. Unlike the Sky People, the Mountain Men were particularly vicious in their torture.

They hosed off the yellow powder, at once making the scorching pain fresh while alleviating it by washing it away. They poked and prodded at him, shoving needles in his arms, shining lights in his eyes and ears. They jammed his mouth open with a metal pipe and shot a pebble deep into his throat, causing him to gag around the pipe, forcing him to swallow the rock.

Then the torment resumed. They sprayed him again with the blistering water but this time, they added wire brushes, scrubbing at his skin, tearing at the cuts along his flesh. It was Death from a Thousand Cuts all at once and it was finally more than he could take. “Aaaah!” He screamed in unrelenting agony.

They finally brought him to his knees and injected him once more. Lincoln’s vision began to swim and he welcomed the oncoming unconsciousness, allowing the blackness to consume him.


	5. First Dose is the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture and drug use warning: Lincoln suffers through Phase 1 of the Cerberus Project. And people complain that Raven’s been tortured a lot?

 

* * *

A door creaked open, waking Lincoln from the darkness. He was gagged and strapped to a gurney in an underground cell, uncertain of how much time had passed. It might have been hours or days. A man in a white jacket entered the room followed by a guard. Lincoln struggled futilely against the restraints.

“Very nice specimen, Tilling,” the man in the white jacket said as he scribbled something on the clipboard in his hand. “His wounds are healing well.”

“You should have seen him in Decontamination,” the one called Tilling said. “We’ve already started a betting pool if you want in.”

The one in the white jacket nodded as he began poking at some of Lincoln’s cuts. Lincoln strained against the cuffs around his wrists, bucking against the belt across his neck, chewing at the gag in his mouth. “He’s a strong one. Hold him down while I draw some blood, see if he’s ready yet.”

Tilling came over and twisted Lincoln’s arm, holding it still while the other man stuck yet another needle into him. “You hear about that Outsider that escaped from Harvest?” Tilling asked.

“Yeah, it was helped by one of those kids President Wallace expects us to integrate with.” The man removed the needle from Lincoln’s arm. “I say they’re just as bad as these rabid dogs. Mutants, all of them.” He slapped Lincoln’s cheek and Lincoln lunged at him, snarling beneath the gag. The man jumped back, startled.

Tilling laughed at him. “The puppy scare you, Thorpe?”

“He won’t be so scary once we neuter him with the tone generators,” Thorpe replied as they left Lincoln alone in the room again, the door clanging shut behind them.

* * *

The door screeched open again. The man in the white coat, Thorpe, had been in a few more times off and on throughout the day. Week? They had treated his wounds so they healed faster, making it so he still had no idea how much time had passed.

This time, a man in a vest entered, carrying a syringe with a vial of the red liquid Lincoln had seen them giving to the Reapers in exchange for their Harvest. Lincoln fought against the restraints. He suddenly understood what the Reapers were and it petrified him. None of the scary stories told around campfires had been as frightening as reality: they were creations of the Mountain Men. A fate worse than death and now he was to be made into one of them.

The man walked around Lincoln, inspecting him as he rolled back his sleeves. He stopped and leaned over the top of him. “I see why Tsing chose you,” he said as he grabbed hold of Lincoln’s head, immobilizing him.

Lincoln felt the puncture of the syringe into his neck and then he was floating away, high above himself. The invisible strings to his broken shell tried to jerk him painfully back down. He didn’t want to go back; it hurt too much. His entire body contracted as he fought but he was forced back into his worn-out flesh anyway.

“Don’t worry. The first dose is the worst,” the man in the vest said as he left the room.

His body began to spasm as the red liquid burned its way through his veins, setting his blood on fire. He choked and convulsed and his heart pounded and thundered in his ears, ready to burst. The agony became his new state of being, trapped within a cage of insurmountable pain. It wasn’t until he begged and pleaded with the gods and the ancestors to give him death that he was finally freed. The invisible strings that held him captive snapped one by one as his tether to the physical realm was released.

And then there was only Happiness. The happiness of childhood, before he made his first kill. The innocent joy of running through the woods on his way to the river to swim. Of summer nights catching fireflies. Of climbing trees. Carefree. All the memories in between faded and disappeared, even Octavia was forgotten. Happiness.

Never-ending ecstasy.

* * *

The door opened again. Lincoln strained his neck, able to see Thorpe and another man in a white jacket standing just outside the room. Then the man in the vest came. He retrieved a syringe of the red liquid from the other man and walked toward Lincoln.

“You see? I told you it got better,” the man in the vest said as he held up the syringe for Lincoln to see.

No, he didn’t want it. It made him hurt, it made him forget. It felt so good. He didn’t want it. But his body writhed where he was strapped in, not fighting against the restraints to break free but fighting to pull him closer to the needle.

“You’re body’s already craving it.”

Lincoln whimpered in response as his mind fought against his body. The needle punctured his neck and he was floating again. The twitching began as he was pulled back into his body. He knew what to expect this time. Temporary pain followed by intense, ongoing pleasure. He fought back, stifling the reaction.

The man in the vest lifted a device and a high-pitched noise emitted from it, the sound used against the Reapers. Thorpe had called it a tone generator. His senses were heightened and it was shrill and overly loud in his ears as he continued to fight his reaction to the red drug coursing through his system.

The man in the vest looked up to a small box above the doorway. “Now,” he said as the tone generator played on.

A burst of lightning exploded through Lincoln. They had wrapped Raven’s fire ropes around his wrists to shoot fire into his veins on top of the fire already burning within from the red.

“Aah!” He screamed through the gag as his entire body grew taut. The dueling fires raced throughout his system, warring with each other as he thrashed and bucked and burned, the piercing tone escalating the torture. It was only when his mind finally surrendered that the blissful happiness began seeping in, making the fire in his wrists, the fire in his blood, and the fire in his ears no longer matter. The perforating sound stopped first and then the lightning to his wrists as the bliss continued to permeate.

“Fifteen seconds,” the man in the vest said to the two men outside Lincoln’s room. “That’s almost a record.” He walked toward the door, leaving Lincoln quivering and trembling behind him. “This one’s a thoroughbred.” He exited the room, speaking to the men in the white jackets, “up his dosage. Shock treatments every two hours.” Every two hours the torture would resume. But so would the bliss. Lincoln whimpered. “When he fears the tone, we move to Phase Two.”

The door shut behind the man in the vest, but it no longer mattered because Lincoln was now soaring, at one with the cosmos, at one with nature, at one with the elements. He was infinite and microscopic, euphoric and enlightened. He was peace and tranquility.

He now knew the time on an intimate level. Every two hours meant more of the precious red liquid. Every two hours Lincoln experienced the most painful death followed by the most incredible joy of his life. Every two hours more of that red would come. Lincoln needed it. Craved it. It was almost time; the high was fading, the euphoria dissipating. When that happened, the blazing fever set in followed by the insatiable hunger. If he wasn’t bound and gagged, he would have eaten his own flesh out of hunger. Then the convulsions would start anew and they would bring the Red liquid. And the process would start again. Every two hours. Every two hours.

Every two hours.

The door creaked open.


	6. This Fight is Over for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture, drug use, and cannibalism warnings: Lincoln suffers through Phase 2 of the Cerberus Project and is made into a Reaper.

* * *

The man in the vest now wore a jacket. He entered and stood in front of Lincoln, holding up the tone generator. It lit up and Lincoln was instantly incapacitated by the ear-shattering frequency his body now so closely associated with the painful side-effects of the Red drug.

Seeing his reaction, the man in the vest shut off the tone generator. “Phase One’s complete. Start Phase Two.” The man in the vest turned as two men in white jackets wheeled in another man tied up on a gurney. The man in the vest held up the sacred Red between them. “One dose.” Lincoln tore at his restraints, kicking at the straps around his ankles. Red. Red. He needed the Red. Red. “Who wants it more?” Lincoln did. Red. He knew he wanted the Red more. Red. Red. He never wanted anything more in his life. Red.

The man in the vest set the syringe of Red down on the floor between Lincoln and the other man strapped across from him. Red. He held up the tone generator, playing the painful tune that came with the Red, paralyzing Lincoln from his mission to get to the Red. Red. The men in the white jackets came, unleashing him from his ropes but the sound kept him frozen and away from his exquisite Red. Red. Red. His hands went to his eyes, his ears, the pressure in his head building with the ongoing screech.

Red. Red. He collapsed to the ground, no closer to the Red than he was before. Red. The other man was unstrapped and brought into the cell with him, closer than him to the Red. Lincoln staggered to his feet. Red. That was _his_ Red. Red. Red. Everyone else exited, the man in the vest leaving last, cutting off the tone generator seconds before the door closed Lincoln into the cell with the other man and the single vial of Lincoln’s Red. Red.

Red. Lincoln moved first, lunging for the syringe. His Red. The other man tackled him, his hands going around Lincoln’s throat as he lifted Lincoln off his feet and carried him back to the gurney. Red. Red. The man’s hands tightened around his throat, choking him as Lincoln fought to break the hold. Red. He grabbed the man’s face in his hands, his thumbs digging deep into the eyes and the man’s hold loosened. Red. Lincoln punched him back, enraged that someone dared to keep him from his Red. Red.

Lincoln fell on the man, straddling him and pummeling him till his nose shattered and his jaw broke. Red. Red. RED. He screamed with fury as he lifted the man’s head up and bashed it into the solid ground. RED. It required a second hit to crack the man’s skull into his brain with a squish. RED.

He sat dazed, panting from the exertion, trying to find his Red Red Red through the frenetic haze. Red. He crawled over to the syringe, lifting it up and bringing it to his neck, desperate to return to paradise. Red. Red. He injected the Red, gasping as it pulsed, spreading throughout his system, a living, breathing torrent of pain throbbing from within, and he submitted to it in anticipation of the miraculous wonders he would soon experience.

The world narrowed and closed in on him as he spiraled down; down into the abyss, searching for his monstrous joy.

* * *

Hot. So hot. Blazing hot. Sweltering hot. The fever was starting.

Hunger. Hunger. Hunger. Growling, roaring, ravenous HUNGER. He was a wolf. The kill still warm; the smell of fresh blood and death tantalized his nostrils, making him salivate. He fell upon the carcass, his teeth gnashing at the throat, his hands turned into claws ripping at the belly, exposing the organs beneath. He feasted upon the remains, throwing his head back in delight, howling as the raw, juicy meat slid down his throat and filled his stomach, feeding and fueling his hunger. Hunger. Hunger. Hunger.

He was tired now, satiated from his meal, and curled up to sleep.

Time was meaningless. It was now phases. Red. Red was the most important stage. Red. But first it was the fleeting agony. That was tolerable enough for the Red ecstasy that came next.

After that, it was the fever. Hot. Hot. Burning. Hot.

Raging HUNGER. The more he ate, the less he burned. Hunger. The more he ate, the longer the joy lasted. Hunger. Hunger. The more he ate, the less he convulsed as the Red wore off before the next dose.

And sleep. Hours, days, weeks, years; it didn’t matter. Each phase lasted until it ended and then on to the next.

When he woke, he was at his most lucid; still groggy and more of an observer, an accomplice, to his own misdeeds. But it was just a phase to complete till he got back to the Red.

Red.

He needed Red.

He got Red from the Mountain.

He brought offerings for the Red, worshiping at the feet of the gods

who delivered the Red to him.

Red. He needed more Red.

Red.

Red. Red. Red.


	7. Remember Me After I'm Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture, drug use, drug withdrawal, cannibalism, and major character death warnings: Octavia and Bellamy find Lincoln and try to save him with Clarke and Abby’s help (and Nyko’s “help”). A bit of an homage to James Joyce and William Faulkner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is so late because it’s depressing as hell to write so many of these consecutively so I was cheating and writing ahead of time some Spacewalker Angsty-Fluff instead.

* * *

Red Red RED RED Red Red. Red.

Red. Red happiness. Red joy. Red. Red. Red.

Hot. Hot. Burning. Hot. Fever. Hunger. Fever. Hot. Food. Endless loop.

Noise. Noise meant food. Hunger. Noise. He staggered to his feet. Noise. Hunger. Toward the noise. Smell. Unwashed. Red joy. Odor of blood, dirt, and Red sweat. Red. Others like him. Red warriors. Two. Red. Hot. Noise. Hunger. Follow Red warriors. Red. Together they ate. Hunger. Together they got more gifts for the Red Red. Hot. Hunger. Hot.

Smell. Not Red warriors. Red. Noise. Heartbeats of prey. Hunger. Smell. More Hunger. Hunger Hunger. Noise. Music. Noise. Blood Red HUNGER. Red. Red warriors. Red. Hunger. Hot. Blood. Smell. Heartbeat. Smell. Listen. Smell. There.

Fight. Kill dead. Hunger. Smell blood. Smell dead. Eat. Eat, eat, eat, eat. Hot. Eat. Fever. Eat. Noise. Eat. Noise. Eat. BANG! Bang-bang noise. Eat. Red warriors dead. Red. Fever. Eat. Music. Eat. Eat. Eat. Hot. Eat. Eat.

Noise. Eat. Light too bright. Noise too loud. Prey. Two heartbeats. Noise. Hunger. Noise. Hunger. Music.

BANG!

Darkness. Nightmare.

Fever. Smell. Hunger. Noise. Hunger. Hunger. Hot. Hunger. Noise. Hunger. Eat, eat, eat. Noise. Noise. Fire. Red. Fire. Red. Fire. Dead.

Void.

* * *

Fever. Hunger. One heartbeat. Hunger. Chained up meant torture. Torture meant Red. Red. Chained up meant Red. Red. Red.

Hunger. Fever. Two heartbeats. HUNGER! Three heartbeats. HUNGER HUNGER HUNGER. Hot. Hunger. Chained up. Red. Torture. Red. Chained up. Red. Fire. Red. Chained up. Red. The Blonde Death and the Sky Warrior. Red. Chained up. Angel. Torture.

Red. Convulsions. Red. Hunger. Light too bright. He needed Red. He needed gifts for Red. ~~Three gifts for Red~~. Two for Hunger, one for Red. Fight for Red. Fever. Hunger. Anger fever. Rage hot. Red. Fight for Red. Red. Red. Red rage. Red fight. Red fever. Red hunger. Red hot. Fight for Red.

Void.

* * *

Hot. Hunger. Fever. Red haze. Red frenzy. Convulsions. He needed Red. Hunger. Red. Hunger. Red dead.

Red not-dead. Hot. Hunger. Red. RED RED. Red Dead.

Dead. The Red Death. Finally released from his earthly prison. Walking on clouds, free. Floating through the water, free. Riding on a rainbow, free. Soaring among the stars, free. He was finally free.

Someone was crying. He was supposed to leave but the woman’s crying was distracting him. He had somewhere else to go but she was still crying. He was supposed to be free but she needed to stop crying first. He couldn’t leave until she stopped.

An external jerk on the physical realm he left behind. No, he was free now. He wasn’t going back.

FIRE through his veins! He was falling from the sky, dragged from the water, yanked from freedom and forced back into his cage, gulping for air. His eyes opened and he gasped at the mental and physical anguish consuming his body. A tear-streaked face swam before his vision, tinged red from the fog of his broken mind, a beloved face, one he remembered from a dream.

“Oh, Lincoln,” she whispered.

That was him. His name was Lincoln. It sounded so foreign, coming from a familiar voice and a face he recognized better than his own. His angel of salvation.

“Octavia.”


	8. There is Nothing You Can Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drug withdrawal warning. Since there is barely any of Lincoln in Spacewalker, that means there’s a whole lot of backstory to fill. Here's the first part.

* * *

They took him back to where the Sky People had set up their new camp, Camp Jaha, they called it. She was there through the worst of it. He would have begged for them to remove her if he had been aware enough to protest. Even then, he knew she would have fought them off and stayed anyway. The non-stop vomiting. The fevers and sweats. The chills. The shakes. The hacking coughing fits. The tremors. The seizures. The cravings. She never left his side.

Clarke’s mother, Abby, was also a healer. Octavia told him she was the one who had brought him back to life with Raven’s fire to his chest. Abby had given him all sorts of injections and pills to help with the withdrawal from the Red drug but she warned him it wouldn’t get rid of everything. Red. Along with the physical symptoms, there would also be depression, confusion, and memory loss. He was fine with the confusion and memory loss; he didn’t want to deal with the horrors of what he’d done just yet. The despair and self-loathing were harder to handle. After experiencing such sweet death, life was now too surreal and too painful. For Octavia’s sake, he was willing to pretend otherwise.

After the vomiting, fever, and sweats stopped, she bathed him, the whole while telling him about the last five days, starting with the return of the rest of the Sky People to earth. It was comforting, listening to her. It wasn’t so much the story itself as it was the smooth cadence in which she spoke. She took her time washing him, running the warm, wet cloth over the scars and injuries and tattoos marring his body, pausing with a frown every time she found new marks. He had been missing for only five days. Lincoln closed his eyes as one of the many medications finally kicked in and he fell asleep fitfully, Octavia’s voice a lullaby in his ear.

* * *

Red. There were times when the Red would cloud over his vision again. Red. Red. His body would thrash and all he could see and all he could taste was the blissful high. Red. And when he would come out of it, his angel was always there. Just out of reach during those moments, her hands clasped together in front of her almost in a red prayer to keep her restrained just like the straps around his wrists and ankles. Red. When she would see his eyes clear again, she would rush over to his side, press a kiss against his red forehead, and fluff his pillows up before resuming her place in the chair next to his red bed. She would then fold her hands in her lap and wait in case there was a second episode. This time, however, as she sat in the seat next to him, she reached out and took his red hand in hers instead, anchoring him to physical reality through her touch.

“Octavia,” he said, a red warning in his voice.

“Shut up, Lincoln. I need this, okay?”

He nodded as the hole in his chest where his heart should be echoed hollowly. “I like what you’ve done to your hair.” His attempt at levity while his palm sweated red against hers and his fingers tingled and throbbed.

“I tried to save you.” She blurted back.

“Octavia.” He attempted a smile, not entirely sure he was successful. “You did save me.” From a benevolent death, something he would never admit to her.

She shook her head at him. “I meant with Indra.”

“Indra?” He feigned interest. It was so hard to care right now about things he knew he should care about.

“I joined them in going after the Reapers. We saved Nyko.”

The corner of Lincoln’s red mouth lifted up at hearing his best friend was safe and alive. Maybe he could still feel something.

Taking his small grin as encouragement, she continued her story. “They used me as bait to lure the Reapers in….”

A live body for a dose of Red. Red. His mouth salivated. Red. Just one body for one more Red dose. Red. Red. He could pick someone like Quint so he wouldn’t feel so guilty. Red.

“… and I attacked it and killed it.”

He hadn’t been paying attention to most of her story but this caught his attention back from the Red. Red. He was an _It_. A thing, not a living being. It didn’t upset him because she was right; Lincoln had been turned into a weapon of the Mountain Men and he still didn’t feel quite alive.

“…how I saved Indra’s life!” Octavia beamed at him.

He nodded, acting impressed with a story he had stopped listening to. She started talking again so he tried to pay attention this time, not wanting to get lost in his red thoughts again.

“At one point, this Reaper grabs me and I’m thinking I’m gonna die but then out of nowhere, this arrow kills it. It was Artigas!” She paused. “Artigas,” she said his name sadly, looking down at their joined hands. “Lincoln, I have to tell you something.”

Already sensing what it was, he squeezed her hand, drawing her attention back up. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

She nodded, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She stood up and came to sit next to him on the bed. Her mouth opened but instead of saying anything, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest, quietly shaking with tears. Lincoln instinctively tried to hug her back but forgot he was tied down and immediately became red frustrated. Red. The Red rage started building again, his Red heart beating faster as he subtly tugged up on the belts around his wrists. Red. He took a deep breath, the rise of his chest distracting Octavia from her crying.

She pulled back from him, rubbing the tears from her eyes, reminding him how young and inexperienced she was. “Sorry, it’s been an emotional week for me.” She gave a small, fake laugh so he faked a smile in return.

“How did it happen?”

“They told me I shouldn’t tell you yet.” She stood up and walked over to the giant windows in his room that looked out over the rest of the Medical bay. “I was too late.” Her arms folded around her waist as she hugged herself. “Everyone assumed that your people had taken ours hostage. They didn’t know about the Mountain Men yet.” Her reflection in the window was studying him closely, gauging his reaction. “I was taking Bellamy and Clarke to your village because Finn and Murphy were headed there, looking for everyone else.”

“Murphy? The kid you guys hanged your first week on earth?” The kid Anya had sent to infect their camp. He was remembering some things at least.

She nodded, finally turning around and cutting to the chase. “Finn…Finn killed Artigas.”

“Finn?” The boy whose life he had saved with Clarke’s, the impudent man-child who thought himself a leader.

“He killed eighteen of your people, Lincoln,” she said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

He sucked in his breath sharply. Eighteen added onto the three hundred Clarke had killed. His eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t want to be HERE anymore.

She must have moved back over to his side because he felt her fingers lightly caressing his cheek. “Lincoln?”

He opened his eyes so she could see the truth in them as he whispered, “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Her hand moved up to pet his head as if he were a baby. “You’re just confused.”

He frowned and turned his head away from her hand. He wasn’t confused this time. If he had never saved Finn and Clarke, if he had just taken Octavia away like he had wanted to, all of his people they killed would still be alive. Their deaths were on him and he didn’t feel anything even though he knew he was supposed to. Red anger and apathy were the only emotions he knew now.


	9. A Monster Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drug withdrawal warning. Part 2 of Spacewalker and there will be a Part 3. Abby and Clarke visit Lincoln in the infirmary to discuss Finn.

* * *

And then it would start all over again. Red. Red. Until the Red was gone from his system and there was nothing left to feel. Painfully, repetitively, vacantly, numb. He would never feel the elation of the Red Red again, the power, the hunger it gave him. Red. Red. Red. His arms tensed, testing the strength of the buckles around his wrists. Red. He could escape. Red. Red. Take any one of them prisoner, take them to the Mountain, get another dose of Red Red. His mouth watered at the thought. RED.

"Tighten the restraints!" He shouted at Octavia, snarling at her. Red. She immediately complied, unquestioningly. Red. Red. He rolled his head back, closing his eyes, seeing Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

Octavia’s fingertips at his temples calmed the Red frenzy. Red. She massaged in gentle circles, distracting and relaxing. Red. His racing heartbeat slowed its rapid pace. Red. He concentrated on her fingers. Red. His breathing evened out. Red. He risked opening his eyes and saw the Red fog creeping back into the shadows.

She was watching him, a tender smile upon her lips. She bent down and pressed a kiss into the middle of his forehead. She was his everything; she was his reason to stay here and it was enough for now to get him through the worst of it. His lungs constricted, his throat closed tight, and he started coughing again. She moved behind him and he felt the top of the bed rising up, reducing some of the pressure on his red chest.

Clarke suddenly barged into the room, followed by Abby. “We need to talk.”

Octavia ignored her, continuing to adjust the red pillows behind Lincoln’s back as his coughing fit subsided.

“Hang on,” Clarke said. “He’s not a Reaper any more. He doesn’t need to be restrained.”

“Yes, I do,” Lincoln replied back. And not just because of the Red. Red. Clarke had ordered the deaths of three hundred of his people. RED. She was lucky he was restrained. Red. Red. They were both lucky he was restrained.

Octavia moved across the room to Clarke’s side and folded her hands in front of her again, her red fingers laced together. She had admitted to him that it was because she wished it were his hand in hers, leading to the first stirrings of life he felt in his decayed red heart. His fingers flexed imperceptibly, remembering her touch.

“Just tell us,” Abby said, her arms folded defensively across her chest. “Is there a way to make peace?”

“Did she leave riders behind?” He was so tired of everything, so exhausted existing on this plane of Red suffering.

“Two just outside the gate,” Abby replied.

“They’re waiting for Finn. You don’t have much time to decide.” Not that there was anything to decide. The Sky People should have been grateful Commander Lexa only wanted Finn. It should have already been done but instead they were in here asking for his help to go against his Commander.

“She can’t expect us to just hand over one of our own people.” Octavia walked back over to his side, the intensity of her gaze stirring the Red up inside him again. “Would she do that?” She bent low to look him in the eyes.

“She wouldn’t let the rest of her people die to protect a murderer.” He didn’t understand why the Sky People wanted to save Finn. Red anger. “If you don’t do this, she will kill everyone in this camp.”

“There has to be something else that we can offer,” Abby said.

“Finn took eighteen lives.” Eighteen lives because Lincoln hadn’t killed him properly the first time, because Lincoln had saved his life more than once after that. “The Commander’s offering to take just one in return. Take the deal.” No more deaths because of him.

“How can you say that?” Clarke asked. “Finn was the first person to come to you to offer peace.” No, it had been Octavia. She had shown him the Sky People were more than just invaders. She had shown him hope long before Finn ever arrived. “He’s your friend.”

Again, Clarke was wrong. Finn had never been a friend; he had been an annoyance he put up with for Octavia’s sake. “He massacred my village. Some of the dead were my friends, too.” Real friends, siblings of war and of survival, the community he was raised in, people he knew and loved all his life.

“But that wasn’t Finn.” Clarke argued. “You know that’s not who he is.”

“It is now,” he said as much for Clarke’s benefit as it was for Octavia’s. “We’ve all got a monster inside of us, Clarke, and we’re all responsible for what it does when we let it out.” He knew the memories of his own experience were still there, just beneath the surface, waiting to haunt him when he slept.

“What will they do to him?” Abby was finally considering the deal.

“Fire. Because he killed the innocent, it starts with fire.” Lincoln tried not to compare his sins to Finn’s, but he had never killed anyone innocent, not even as a Reaper. He easily might have if Octavia hadn’t saved him but at least that guilt wasn’t added to his already-taxing burden.

“Starts?” Clarke asked.

“They’ll take his hands.” He kept his gaze turned down, remembering the last time he witnessed such an execution. “His tongue, his eyes, and anyone who grieves will have a turn with the knife. At sunrise, the Commander will end it with her sword but…” He shook his head.  “I’ve never known anyone to survive until the sword. He killed eighteen. He will suffer the pain of eighteen deaths.” He finally looked directly at Clarke. “Then we can have peace.”


	10. To Protect a Murderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drug withdrawal warning. Part 3 of Spacewalker and there will now also be a Part 4. Bellamy sort of surprised me by jumping in the story.

* * *

He hadn’t had another Red attack in a few hours; at least he guessed it had been a few hours. His mind was still muddled with red and he had a tenuous grasp on time but according to Octavia, it was early morning, still dark out and most of the camp asleep. It was only yesterday she had saved him from the Red Death. He thought it had been days ago.

She laid a blanket over him before she pulled the curtains around his bed, at last giving them some privacy in the windowed room. She must trust the worst of it was over. She climbed up on the gurney next to him, curling herself into his side and tugging the blanket over the both of them. Warmth spread through him emanating from where she was pressed against him. He wasn’t going to protest this time, needing the contact, feeling his tattered soul starting to heal a little bit more.

"On the Ark, I spent my whole life sharing a bed with my brother or my mother until I was locked away." Her hand absentmindedly rubbed across his chest, stimulating his half-dead heart to beating. "That night in your cave….” She tucked her head in closer against him. "…was the only time in over a year I slept without nightmares."

He closed his eyes, swallowing back the knot in his throat. Where only hours earlier he had felt nothing, he was now a raw nerve of sensitivity. His emotions were so close to the surface, bubbling up and threatening to boil over. If his wrists weren't bound, he would have hugged her tight and kissed her and made love to her till the world exploded around them. But unlike her, he didn't trust himself just yet. He didn't trust that the Red state wouldn't return and he might harm her or worse.

Octavia was soon asleep, half on top of him, her arm and leg wrapped around him like a toddler around a toy. He smiled fondly, remembering she had told him about her best friend when she was little, a stuffed animal she christened “Gussie” (short for Augustus, apparently). She then proceeded to call Lincoln her "adult version," much to his embarrassment...and flattery that she considered him her best friend.

The sound of footsteps entering the room drew his attention to the drapes closed around them. He expected it to be Abby or Jackson but was surprised when it was her brother. "She's asleep," he whispered.

Bellamy nodded as he stepped quietly around the curtain. "I'm here to see you." Bellamy glanced down at Octavia, a loving smile crossing his face as he watched her sleeping so peacefully.

It reminded Lincoln this was the man who had raised her. As if she were aware of their eyes on her, she purred in her sleep and snuggled deeper into Lincoln's chest.

"She never gave up looking for you," Bellamy said softly, breaking the silence. "She refused to believe you were dead even when you did die."

Lincoln nodded, unable to speak in fear of the tears that threatened to fall, knowing how unworthy he was of her love for him.

"After...after...." Bellamy paused, for once at a loss for words. "You kept her safe. With everything going on, I wasn't worried about Octavia because she was with you."

Lincoln had failed, though. Octavia had survived without him, perhaps even in spite of him. "I'm sorry." He looked away.

"No, no." Bellamy shook his head. "I'm trying to apologize to you, dammit."

His gaze returned to his angel's brother, red confusion returning.

"You taught her how to fight, how to survive." Bellamy sighed. "Even after I tortured you.... I didn't listen to her. I didn't _want_ to listen. But she was right." Bellamy stepped closer, holding Lincoln’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said frankly, his eyes reflecting his remorse.

Lincoln nodded. He had forgiven Bellamy for that even before his angel had set him free. They had been at war; Lincoln was the enemy, it was what was done and he had been through worse both before and after.

"After I tortured you…." Bellamy’s brows creased together. "What you did for her, saving her, going against your own people. I never thought there would be anyone else who loves her as much as I do.”

“I’d do anything to protect her,” Lincoln whispered. Now more than ever; his dismal life was no longer worth living without her in it.

Bellamy studied him closely for a minute before nodding. “I’m counting on it.” He glanced back down at his sister, making sure she was still asleep. “Listen, this thing with Finn…. Whatever happens, keep her out of it, okay? Even if you have to take her away.”

“You would endanger your own sister’s life for Finn?” Lincoln shook his head, finally realizing why Bellamy chose to have this conversation now. They were planning on doing something stupid to save the life of a murderer red. Maybe it was because Lincoln had never been anything but accepting of his own fate for betraying his people but he wasn’t able to comprehend why Finn refused to give himself up and face his punishment honorably. Red. Instead, Finn was dragging every single Sky Person down with him, including Octavia’s brother. Red. “He’s not worth it.”

“Maybe not, but I gotta try for Raven and Clarke at least.”

Raven. Torture. Red. Raven’s fire. Red. Lincoln frowned, biting his lips together in red annoyance as his red heart started beating faster and his red wrists tightened in his red restraints. Red. Red. Perhaps feeling his red tension, Octavia shifted against him. Red. He didn’t agree with Bellamy’s choice but he wasn’t able to do anything about it, short of tattling on him to Octavia. Red.

Bellamy shuffled uneasily at Lincoln’s silent red disapproval. “Just take care of her, okay?”

“She can take care of herself,” he replied, red anger in his tone. Red.

“You know what I meant.” Bellamy rolled his eyes and gave him an impertinent grin. “Besides, I’ll be back before either of you know I’m gone.” He gave a small red wave goodbye and ducked back around the red curtain, ending the conversation.

Lincoln sighed, closing his red eyes as he concentrated on where Octavia’s body touched his, the heat of his angel’s fire seeping into his cold red soul. Red. He willed himself to get past this without going red full-blown Red. Red. It had been hours since the last time. Red.

He inhaled deeply and Octavia filled his senses, his discordant mind slowly returning to harmonious quietude. His lips creased up as he finally allowed himself the hope that he might make it through this.


	11. Understand Her Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drug withdrawal warning. Part 4 of Spacewalker and now there is also going to be a Part 5.

* * *

By late morning, Lincoln was able to consistently control the Red attacks when they came over him. Sometimes Octavia needed to intervene to help him focus, but he was feeling better both physically and mentally. He still demanded to remain tied up a bit longer though, just in case.

The red confusion was still interfering with his recollection and time perception. Abby came to visit him once more and Octavia had to explain to him again that she was like Clarke: not only a healer but also the _Heda_ of the Sky People.This time, instead of Clarke, she brought her lieutenant, Kane, who had just been released by Lexa back to the Sky People.

“What will happen if we put Finn on trial ourselves?” Abby asked.

“The Commander accepted this agreement?” Lincoln was genuinely shocked Lexa would agree. Finn had murdered their people, Finn deserved their justice.

“No, we haven't made the proposal yet,” Abby replied.

Kane nodded. “But I think she'll be willing to consider it.”

“I need to know,” Abby continued on, “if we put Finn on trial ourselves, is your commander going to accept the outcome, even if we decide he belongs in jail?”

They were still trying to save Finn. It made no sense. “Even if she wanted to accept this deal, she'd be dead by morning. She'd know that.”

“Your people would kill their own leader for being merciful?” Octavia asked.

“For being weak.” He looked to Octavia, hoping she understood the difference, that Finn didn’t deserve mercy. “Finn killed innocent people. If death has no cost, life has no worth. That's how we live.” If he had killed innocents while as a Reaper, he would have sought absolution in whatever form those he wronged wished upon him.

Kane leaned in close. “I spent time with your commander. She's a visionary.”

Kane wasn’t wrong. Lincoln had known Lexa since before she was Anya’s second. “And that's why you're all still alive.” And why she only asked for one death in return instead of the eighteen they were owed. “If it were up to some at her table, you wouldn't be.”

“Indra?” Octavia said it more as a statement than a question.

“She leads those voices, yes.” She had the most right. It was her village that Finn massacred.

“She's dangerous, Abby,” Kane whispered, looking over at Abby.

Abby returned Kane’s glance. “If she's the one that's standing in the way of an agreement, I need to speak to her face to face.”

Indra wasn’t the one standing in the way of an agreement; it was the Sky People’s refusal to give up Finn that stood in the way. What was so valuable about a murderer that they were willing to go to such great lengths to save him? “There's nothing you can say.” He wasn’t able to keep the disgust from his voice.

“Maybe not. But I can show her we understand her pain,” Abby said even though it was obvious she didn’t, she couldn’t. If she had, they wouldn’t be having this discussion and Finn would already be dead. A society that disposed of their people so easily for having too many children would never understand the pain of a society that valued eighteen innocent lives more than the life of one guilty murderer. “Maybe that will be enough.” Abby hurried out of the room, set on her course to meet with Indra. Kane gave him a look of uncertainty and a warning glance at Octavia before following after Abby.

Octavia frowned at him.

He sighed. “What?”

“You don’t have to be so grumpy.”

His eyes rolled. “Come here.” She stepped closer to his side. His fingers strained for her hand, wanting her touch.

She gave in with a sigh and sat down next to him on the bed, taking his hand in hers. “They have to at least try.” She sounded like her brother.

“Like they tried with your mother?” It was a low blow but he was repulsed by the Sky People’s double-standards.

She didn’t immediately say anything, eyeing him curiously before she lay down across his chest, tucking her head under his chin. “Is it wrong that I wish he was already dead?” she whispered.

Lincoln was glad she wasn’t able to see him smile inappropriately at her admission that she didn’t always agree with her own people either. He kissed the top of her head. “No,” he said simply.

“There were so many bodies.” Her voice broke. “There were more dead than left alive. If we hadn’t shown up, he wouldn’t have stopped.” She was crying now. “They’d have all been dead.” She rubbed her face into his chest, wiping some of her tears off on his shirt.

She had pushed down all that sorrow inside herself so she could take care of him these last few days. She needed someone to hear her pain and this was finally something he was able to do for her. Lincoln remained silent, listening to her and letting her speak.

“Clarke and Bellamy took off again with Finn and Murphy but I went back.” Her hand twisted in the front of his shirt, worrying the fabric between her fingers. “She didn’t even stick around to help the wounded. Nyko and I tried but there were too many, so badly injured and….” She stopped talking and started weeping in earnest, those silent whimpers of hers that broke his heart because it always reminded him how she hadn’t even been able to cry out loud growing up. “There were so many people bleeding to death, so many bodies,” she stammered out between sobs.

His own tears started falling in despair at hearing what Octavia had witnessed and suffered. They trickled freely down his cheeks and disappeared into her hair but he didn’t bother stopping them; he needed his willpower spent on other things at the moment, not on trying to suppress his righteous grief at the loss of friends and family.

Her crying eventually abated and she sniffed and snuffled as she wiped her eyes and nose on his shirt again. Lincoln’s brow furrowed in exasperation even as a smile crept over his face. She had no concept of personal space with him and he found it rather endearing even if it was sometimes hard to get used to.

“I don’t know why I let them go,” she whispered. “I should have killed him right there.”

“Hey,” Lincoln finally spoke. He waited until she lifted her head up, exposing her puffy, splotchy, tear-stained face. “You did the right thing. You are not an executioner; you are a warrior. That was not a battle.”

She nibbled on her lip thoughtfully. “I’m not sure if you’re lying to me to make me feel better but it’s working.” She gave a tremulous smile before she leaned forward and placed a delicate, salty peck on his lips. “Thank you,” she said, purposefully repeating the first words he’d ever spoken to her. She tucked her head back under his chin again. “Distract me with another story, Lincoln.”

He smiled and began whispering to her tales of the mole people who lived in underground bunkers and only ventured out at night to steal people’s hopes and dreams. Shining something bright at them made them scurry away back into their burrows, the light banishing them much like it banished nightmares born from horrific memories. He placed another kiss onto the top of her head. She was his angel of light and he was going to spend the rest of his days trying to be the same for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously have some unresolved issues with the way they seemed to victimize and glorify Finn on the show and tried to make us sympathetic to him so Clarke’s mercy-kill is more of a tear-jerker for the viewer. You know what’s even sadder? Eighteen murdered people. Why didn’t they show us some more of that instead?


	12. Dead by Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of Spacewalker and introducing Jackson! Anyone else wonder where Lincoln and Octavia were during Finn’s death?

* * *

It was just the two of them alone for most of the day until Jackson entered the room late in the afternoon. “Your tox screen finally came back clear. You’re good to go.” Jackson came around the right side of his bed and began to undo the straps.

Lincoln snatched hold of his wrist, stalling him. “Does that mean I’m cured now? No more episodes?”

Jackson looked him in the eye. “It means you have no more of the drug in your system to cause the attacks or the cravings.” His gaze fell down to Lincoln’s hand around his wrist. “Your brain, on the other hand….”

Lincoln let go of Jackson’s wrist. He would still mentally crave it. He glanced over to his left at Octavia, smiling at him and waiting for his permission to unbuckle him. Her belief in him made him believe in himself. He nodded and both Octavia and Jackson proceeded to release him from the restraints.

“You can follow me and I’ll show you where to shower and shave, if you want.” Jackson glanced between him and Octavia. “I promise I’ll bring him right back.”

Lincoln nodded and Jackson led the way, stopping to gather a change of clothes and shaving supplies while Lincoln mapped out the infirmary in his head, spotting escape routes and strategic defense areas.

The shower was cleansing if not rather short. From what Octavia had told him, they were still rationing water. The soap was harsh and smelled of chemicals, reminding him of the burning yellow powder the Mountain Men had used on him. The shave, however, was another level of cleanliness he never appreciated until now. With each scrape of the blade, the itchy, scratchy grime of his days as a Reaper peeled away. Until he nicked himself and the red smell of copper rose up around him in a red mist. He closed his eyes and shook his head, the fog clearing.

Once he was cleaned up, Jackson led him back through the crashed space station to his sectioned-off room in the infirmary. Octavia jumped to her feet when she saw him coming, running to him and throwing herself at him. He scooped her up and held her tight against him, his heart springing to life at having her in his arms again. He set her back down on her feet and kissed her forehead before she took his hand and led him back into the room.

“We don’t have anywhere else to put you right now other than here,” Jackson said by way of apology.

“How long do I have to stay here?” Lincoln asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Octavia joined him, keeping his hand firmly gripped in hers.

Jackson shrugged. “It’s up to you. Medically, you’re fine now.”

“I meant in this camp.” He wanted to know if he was a prisoner.

“You’ll have to ask Abby—I mean Chancellor Griffin—that.” Jackson smiled nervously. “Now if you’ll excuse me….” He exited rather abruptly, leaving Lincoln to infer he wasn’t exactly free to go just yet.

Lincoln looked down to his right at Octavia. She titled her head up, her chin resting on his bicep. He wanted to taste her lips again. She leaned toward him as her eyes fell closed and her mouth parted. His head moved closer, his lips tickling hers tentatively at first, his forgotten desire for her stirring to life again.

“They caught him!” A shout rang through Medical, startling them both. “Those Grounders finally caught the bastard!” The entire area erupted in commotion and cheers as people began moving toward the exits, eager to see and hear what happened. It seemed Octavia wasn’t the only one who disagreed with the way their leaders had irrationally protected Finn.

* * *

The Medical area was empty, the whole station was empty. All of the Sky People were gathered outside, standing along the fence, watching _Trikru_ justice being mete out for the massacre. Everyone except Lincoln and Octavia. They sat in silence on the gurney quietly mourning those lost to Finn’s rampage, their hands clasped together and their arms intertwined.

She laid her head on his shoulder and he rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Thank you for staying in here with me," he whispered.

She nodded as her fingers laced through his, clinging to him as much as he clung to her. "They were your friends," she whispered back. "Artigas…." She sighed out his name. Artigas had saved her life and his death was hitting her the hardest.

“If I went out there…I would feel like I was on the wrong side of the fence,” he said by way of explanation.

She was quiet for a moment before she replied, “me, too.”

* * *

It might have been a half hour or three hours later when Bellamy found them. Lincoln still had issues with keeping track of time but he knew it was much shorter than most executions. The look on Bellamy's face showed the deed was done; Finn was dead.

"Are you able to leave?" Bellamy asked him.

Lincoln nodded. He had been eager to get out of Camp Jaha since Jackson cleared him.

"Your commander wants us to head out now for Tondc." Bellamy glanced at Octavia before looking pointedly at Lincoln. "Both of you." He turned to leave without waiting for agreement. "Meet outside in ten."

Octavia hopped off the bed to follow but Lincoln refused to let go of her hand. He tugged her back to him and between his legs, yearning for her touch a bit longer.

Her fingers traced over the raised scar tissue on the back of his right hand while her thumb delicately swirled over the matching scar on his palm from where her brother had shoved the spike through. She brought his hand to her lips, kissing first the scar on the back of his hand and then his palm. She placed his hand on her chest and over her heart.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head into her chest, breathing her in deeply, requiring her embrace once more to give him strength and to remind him he wasn't alone any longer. She cradled him close, holding him against her, as they sought temporary solace in each other’s arms. He gave another shaky inhale, overflowing with love for this incredible woman as tears escaped from the corners of his eyes and absorbed into her shirt.

She pulled back first, cupping his cheek and smiling dotingly at him. His hand covered hers and he kissed her palm as he leaned into her touch. She pressed her lips against his forehead as she stroked her fingers down his cheek and along his jawline before taking his hand in hers again and smiling reassuringly. “Let’s get out of here before they change their minds.” She winked at him as she hauled him to his feet and led him out of the sterile prison and into the morning sunrise. He had made it through another day.


	13. My People Fear Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning part of Remember Me.

* * *

It was a slow walk to _Tondisi_. Even with leaving most of her army behind at Camp Jaha, traveling with Commander Lexa still required a lot of preparation and protection. There were warriors on all sides as well as dozens of scouts hidden in the trees and running point to make sure the path was clear of any potential threats to their _Heda_.

Behind the guards in the front, the cart transporting Sky People equipment and Finn’s body led the way. Raven, the girl who had tortured him with fire, sat next to the body, a dour expression on her face. Octavia explained to Lincoln that Finn had been her boyfriend. The red confusion seemed to come over him again because he had thought Finn was in love with Clarke. But it wasn’t red confusion and he still didn’t understand. He glanced over at Octavia walking by his side, unable to imagine any other person but her.

Clarke and Bellamy walked behind the cart, talking in inaudible seriousness. Clarke made Lincoln uneasy; she always had. After hearing what she had done to subvert the execution, she made him all the more nervous. She had mercilessly killed three hundred warriors in battle and then demanded mercy for a murderer. He reached for Octavia’s hand, latching onto it to reassure himself that she was safe. She squeezed back.

In front of them walked Abby and Kane, behind them rode Lexa and Indra and several other _Trikru_ warriors and guards. Lincoln didn’t mind the unhurried pace; his leg was still sore from where she had shot him. Octavia had shot him. He snorted as he grinned to himself, shaking his head. She never ceased to amaze him.

As if knowing he was thinking about her, she peeked up at him. “What’s so funny?” she asked with her own answering smile.

Lincoln continued grinning. “I’m just enjoying being outside again.” He would tell her later when Lexa wasn’t directly behind him, riding tall on her horse next to Gustus, her lieutenant. He thought it wise to keep any conversation about him being a former Reaper to a minimum.

He truly was enjoying being outdoors again. The confining and monochromatic environment of Camp Jaha had bothered him a lot more than he realized. He wasn’t able to imagine how his vibrant Octavia had grown up in such a tiny, colorless place and still managed to maintain her enthusiastic love for life.

“Look.” He pointed up at a tree.

Octavia’s eyes followed his finger. “What?”

“One of the scouts.” The scout was no longer visible. “Sometimes you can only spot leaves moving but every now and again, you might see a little more.”

Octavia smiled and was soon occupied with scouring the treetops as she tried to catch glimpses of _Trikru_ warriors moving among the branches.

* * *

And so the caravan crawled along, hours on end, until they finally stopped for the night, a short distance from _Tondisi_. The _Trikru_ set up camp with only Lexa requiring her tent as was her status while the rest of the warriors preferred to sleep out in the open. The Sky People, however, had brought their own tents, including one for Bellamy. Lincoln and Octavia hadn’t been invited by either Clarke or Lexa; it was Bellamy who insisted on their presence so it was in front of Bellamy’s tent on the edge of camp where they set up their campfire.

As Lincoln walked back from refilling their water flask, he saw Bellamy had taken a spot out in the open, between Clarke and where the rest of the _Trikru_ had set up their camp. He tried not to smile but that meant he and Octavia would have the tent for themselves.

“ _Natrona_.” Indra hissed at him as she passed behind him.

His smile dropped as he watched her continue on past Bellamy and toward Gustus and the other warriors. He walked the rest of the way over to where Octavia reclined by their fire and sat next to her, tossing his water flask down at their feet.

“ _Natrona_?” she asked him.

“Traitor.” He translated for her as he watched Indra whispering furtively with Gustus and gesturing in his direction. “My people fear me. They think the Reaper is still inside.” It bothered him because he feared it as well. He slid down onto his back, gazing up into the star-sprinkled night sky, hating himself because he was feeling nostalgic for the Red adventures in space-time.

“You can talk to me.” She leaned over him, her hand caressing the stubble of his Mohawk. “About what happened.”

“I can’t.” He might not have killed innocents but he had killed. He had killed and he had cannibalized and he had attacked Octavia. Her tenacity in shooting him no longer brought a smile to his face because now all he could think about was that he might have killed her.

She shook her head, frowning at him. “You’re not that monster.” She continued to rub the top of his head soothingly.

He turned toward her, her face so close to his, her expression so caring and sympathetic. She was more intelligent than him and had saved his life often enough that he trusted her unequivocally. “I hope you’re right.” It was himself he didn’t trust.

She bent down, closing the gap between them and tenderly took his lips in hers. It started like all their previous pecks, meant to comfort and reconnect, but they had missed each other too much and for too long. Her tongue swept in his mouth, tempting him and teasing him, reminding him the last time they had kissed like this was when she had promised to run away with him.

His hand went to her waist to drag her closer but instead she straddled him, her lips never leaving his, her heat settling over him. Jackson had warned him he might have some difficulties performing and had passed him a few pills. She ground her hips against him. He cupped her face, his tongue diving deeper into her mouth as his own hips thrust up in response. He wasn’t going to need Jackson’s pills.

She drew back, breaking the kiss, leaving him breathless and expectant. “Come on.” She climbed off him and crawled into Bellamy’s tent behind them.

Lincoln lay there stunned, his mouth still open, his arms hanging empty in the air where Octavia had left them. With his inhibitions lowered, he had been about to take her right there in front of everyone. At least his normally impetuous angel had the decency to remember they might have been secluded but they weren’t exactly all that private. He scrambled into the tent after her.


	14. And Stay Quiet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of the smut.

* * *

He climbed in the tent, catching a glimpse of a topless Octavia struggling to remove her boots as he zipped up the entrance behind him. He managed to get his jacket and shirt off in one go and was working on his shoes when she unfastened her pants and wriggled them, along with her panties, down past her hips. He could smell her desire in the close quarters of the tent and it made him ravenous.

He snagged her by the pant legs and practically tore the rest of her clothing off. She lay there naked on her back, leaning on her elbows, her knees raised and open enough for him to see the moistened curls between her thighs, tantalizing him and beckoning him. His hands went to her knees, opening them farther as he sank down. His mouth opened over her, his tongue delving deep, tasting her passion.

Her hips lifted up as her breath hitched. “Lincoln,” she half-sobbed, half-moaned his name.

He ignored her, his mouth suckling at her nectar, his tongue licking and stroking and probing as he consumed her, lapping at her juices. His fingers dug into her, searching along her front wall for that other spot that made her scream. Her knees locked together over his head as her mouth wrapped around her fist, muffling her cries, and she climaxed.

Lincoln didn’t waste any time and rose between her legs, his hands fumbling over the front of his trousers, barely managing to get his pants off before he was thrusting deep inside her. A small groan escaped him as her body clung to his, squeezing and flexing and he whimpered in defeat. He drew out of her and surged in once more, throwing his head back as he fell over the brink, losing himself too fast inside the tightness of her embrace.

He collapsed on top of her as he hid his face in shame against her neck. He was shaking and trembling and he didn’t know why until he felt the tears on his cheeks. Her hands soothed over his back as her lips nibbled his ear. He moved to get off her but she locked her ankles and arms around him, holding him in place still buried inside her. Her muscles contracted around him as her hips shifted and he felt himself already growing hard again. He tried to pull away once more but she wasn’t letting him go.

"Lincoln, you're allowed to fuck me.” She was in tune with him enough to know what was bothering him.

“But it wasn’t supposed to be like that.” He had fantasized about taking his time; making her come again and again until she begged and then making her come once more before he finally sought his own release.

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” Her tongue flickered out to lick his ear as she purposefully tightened her muscles around him again, tilting her hips against his.

His hips lurched back, pushing him deeper inside. She moaned into his ear. His hips lurched again. “Octavia.” He pleaded her name. “I can’t….” He gasped as she arched, taking him in even further before she rolled them over. She sat up on top of him, adjusting his member back to her entrance as she descended halfway down onto him.

“I can,” she said as she bent over to take his mouth in hers, her bottom rising up and almost completely off him before her hips rocked back down, swallowing him whole. He moaned into her mouth, his hands tangling in her hair, running down her back, gripping her hips; the rough callouses and scars scraping across her skin. His movements were erratic as he fought a losing battle to stay in control.

She tore her mouth away from his and she rose up on him again, her nails scratching sensually down his chest as she rode him. Her hand moved between her legs, her fingers finding her pleasure as she brought herself closer to completion. Tiny whimpers escaped her as his fingers replaced hers. Her hands went up to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples taut as her head fell back, her hair sweeping across the top of his legs in a whispered caress. His fingertips relentlessly circled her nub as she spasmed around his rod, jerking and sucking at him until he surrendered. His vision blurred, his teeth gritted back moans, and his muscles clenched in orgasm as he spilled himself inside her.

This time, she collapsed on top of him, breathless and sweaty and beautiful. “Do you think we’re even now?” she asked as she melted on top of him, her legs silky alongside his, her breath tickling his chest.

He gave a short laugh. “Not even close.” And he no longer felt ashamed for it. She had helped heal that a little bit, too. He was grateful to be in her debt for all eternity and he would especially enjoy the effort to make it up.

He grasped her buttocks, tugging her higher, and allowing himself to slip out of her as he moved them onto their sides. He ran his fingers down the valley of her breasts following the line of her sternum to her belly button and from her belly button to the top of her mound. His fingers dug into her recesses before she clenched her thighs closed over his hand.

“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” She gasped as his fingertips pressed onto her clit.

“Good thing we don’t have far to go,” he whispered back as he worked his fingers further between her folds, loosening her thighs for him, her legs falling open as she shifted onto her back. He had come in her twice leaving her thighs wet with his leaked seed and her lips swollen and still sensitive from his plunder. He shoved two fingers inside, spreading them and twisting them as the heel of his hand ground against her. His mouth covered hers, consuming her cries of ecstasy as with just a few strokes more, she came to pieces in his hand. He continued kissing her, nibbling at her lips as his fingers slowed their pace, bringing her back down from her peak.

She sighed in contentment and curled herself into his arms, tucking her knee between his legs and her icy cold feet between his calves. He grumbled even as he smiled.


	15. Come with Me*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more NSFW. :)

* * *

He awoke into darkness with a start. Disoriented and unable to breathe, his ears ringing with that high-pitched sound of Red, his chest constricting, his red heart racing.

“Octavia,” he gasped out, blindly reaching for her.

“I’m here, Love.” She appeared out of the blackness, sitting next to him.

She took his hands in hers, her thumbs swirling at the pressure points. The constriction around his chest eased first, allowing him to breathe again. Her hands moved along his forearms, her fingers gliding up and down. The ringing in his ears subsided and his heartbeat slowed.

“You okay?” she asked him.

He nodded, still a little out of breath, still a little disoriented. She lay back down beside him, resting her cheek on his shoulder and placing her palm over his heart. He wondered if she could feel it thundering still. He hugged her closer.

“They’re getting better,” she said reassuringly.

Maybe on the outside but the nightmares were always the same. He didn’t want to revisit them again tonight so instead he rolled over onto his side, facing Octavia. “Do you wanna go back to sleep?”

She grinned at him. “Why? You have something that might help?” Her hand wrapped around his cock and he sucked in his breath.

The last few days had taught him a new appreciation for self-control. Her hand began to move up and down. When it came to sex with Octavia, however…. Her thumb brushed over his tip and he groaned. He wasn’t even sure if his insatiable want for her was residual from the Red drug or because they had been apart for…. She squeezed. Oh, gods!

“You’ll be sore,” he somehow managed to grit out through clenched teeth.

“Good thing we don’t have far to go.” She used his own words against him as she continued stroking him.

He pushed her over onto her back, forcing her to relinquish her hold on his member. His hand went between her legs, finding her already wet. He looked to her face.

She shrugged. “Turning you on turns me on.”

He grinned as he inserted a finger. “Same.”

His mouth swooped down on hers, his tongue plunging between her lips as he added another finger inside her. Her hips shoved up into his hand as her walls clenched around his fingers and her tongue tangled with his. He waited till she started whimpering before he tugged his mouth away from hers and began trailing kisses down her neck, his fingers probing against her g-spot.

A noise squeaked out of her and he glanced up at her face. She was already gone, caught in the thralls of rapture, her lips opening on silent cries. He began thumbing her clit as his mouth covered her breast and she panted and sighed. He bit down on her nipple.

“Oh!”

It was the tiniest of gasps but it brought a smile to Lincoln’s lips as they enclosed over her nipple and he suckled gently. Her hips bucked frantically against his hand as he moved his attention over to her other breast, lapping at her nipple before tugging it between his lips. He thrust with his fingers, pressed down with his thumb, and bit with his teeth. She screamed mutely as wave after wave of euphoria crashed over her, leaving her quaking and heaving.

She still hadn’t begged and he wasn’t sure he could hold out much longer. His thumb dug in, circling rhythmically on top of her nub as his fingers flexed and folded within her sheath. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes as her head shook back and forth and her lips trembled around her silent cries. He sucked harder on her nipple, his tongue flickering across the tip as his lips puckered tight.

“Please!” She finally whimpered out, her nails clawing at his shoulders.

His fingers kept up their torment between her thighs but he released her nipple, dipping his head down briefly to give it one last pull. He moved over on top of her, his hardness stabbing into the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She opened her legs wider, bending her knees up higher, her passage opening further around his prying fingers. He curled his fingertips and dragged them along her front wall as he removed them, sending her pelvis arching and his name torn from her lips.

His mouth fell upon hers as he slammed himself into her. He clutched the underside of her thigh in one hand, lifting her leg higher as he plowed deeper. He pinched her nipple with his other hand and her teeth scraped along his tongue in a sob. He retaliated, his tongue dueling with hers as his cock pounded into her, hitting her hardest where his fingers had been earlier.

She was no longer able to do anything but whimper and cling to him, too far gone but not quite there. He broke their kiss and held her gaze; her eyes clouding over in passion as he finally let her go and watched her soar. He drove into her harder and harder until she was a mess of ecstasy, her cheeks flushed pink with desire, tendrils of hair and braids sticking to her sweaty forehead, her lips plump and swollen from his kisses. He grunted as he came, barely keeping himself from shouting out her name as he lost himself inside her for the third time that night.

He held her closely afterward; a sense of belonging settling into his restless spirit, a connection to her that transcended this miserable earth. She fell asleep again, cradled in his arms, and he smiled at how innocent and vulnerable she looked. He rested his forehead on hers as his eyes drifted shut and he was lulled back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that Octavia would help keep the nightmares at bay.


	16. Cleanse the Pain of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of Remember Me: the funeral for the murdered victims of the massacre. There will probably be at least 4 more parts of Remember Me coming. I have a strong feeling Season 2 is going to require more than 30 chapters to write.

 

* * *

Indra, Lexa, and Gustus rode in front as they approached the main gate of _Tondisi_ the next morning. As the gate slid open, they climbed off their horses and walked back to where the Sky People had lined up. One of Lexa's guards asked for their weapons in _Trigedasleng_.

“Weapons.” Gustus translated.

Lincoln stepped forward, giving up his single knife, the only weapon he had allowed himself so far. “We need to disarm before we enter,” he explained.

Clarke quickly followed suit with Bellamy grudgingly removing the clip from his gun before passing it over to Gustus. Gustus walked behind Bellamy to Kane who handed over his weapon. As Gustus moved on to Raven, Lincoln watched as another one of Lexa’s guards, Ryder, approached Octavia for her weapons. She looked uneasy but she complied.

Gustus was still busy removing weapons from Raven. Raven stood with a petulant look and a stubborn tilt to her jaw as she made him search her. _Clang!_ Another weapon dropped into the bucket, three so far. Gustus turned Raven around, finding another weapon in her backpack. He turned her back to front again and found yet another one. Lincoln admired the girl’s spunk.

“ _Heda. Em klir_.” Gustus turned toward Lexa, announcing it was clear.

Lexa nodded and Gustus made his way back to her, falling into step behind her and next to Indra as they approached the gates.

Everyone soon followed with Lincoln taking his place again beside Octavia. There was a knot in his stomach and his chest was heavy as they walked through the entrance of what had once been his village. He was returning dressed as a foreigner in borrowed Sky People clothing and he felt like one, too. Octavia was a step ahead of him and his eyes were drawn to the back of her head, his vision tunneling in on her as he kept his feet moving forward, following her through an inferno if necessary. She was his home now.

“ _Heda! Heda! Mounin houm!_ ” A shout welcomed the Commander.

Soon, others began yelling from the walls and the tops of buildings, not as friendly once the Sky People came into view. “ _Ripa_!” was the most common cry of outrage. Murderers. They demanded to know why their Commander brought the Sky People with her.

As the very few people from _Tondisi_ who were still alive after the battle and the massacre had decimated their numbers lined up along their path, Octavia glanced nervously back at him. _It's okay_ , he mouthed even as they hurled insults and called for the death of the Sky People, screaming at them to go home. A gauntlet of rage and hate and fear and grief.

Sindri stepped out from the crowd, blocking Lexa’s way. He had moved the rest of his family to _Tondisi_ after the Sky People had burned down his village with their flares.

“ _Skaikru don jak etin op kom ai: ai houmon, ai yongon_.” Sindri spit out, having now also lost his wife and child in the massacre.

Gustus ordered him to get out of the way. With nothing left to lose, Sindri refused, telling the Commander the _Ripas_ were not welcome. Lexa turned her head and gave a brief nod to Gustus. Gustus stepped forward and punched Sindri in the face, knocking him on his back. Gustus climbed on top of him and began punching him again and again.

The smell of red blood wafted on the breeze, tantalizing Lincoln’s red senses. Red sprayed up from Gustus’ fist each time he lifted his arm back in a swing, glistening red as the red droplets sparkled and hovered in the air. Lincoln turned his head away.

“ _Teik em kik raun_.” Lexa ordered Gustus to let Sindri live. While Lincoln got the red hunger back under control, Clarke had intervened and saved Sindri’s life.

Sindri was helped to his feet, his nose red with blood and dripping more red. Lincoln returned his gaze to the safety of Octavia in front of him.

Lexa turned around, standing in front of the gathered crowd. “The Sky People march with us now.” She paused, her eyes sweeping across their faces. “Anyone who tries to stop that will pay with their life.” She waited for her command to sink in before turning back around and leading the way through the village with Indra close on her heels.

“Warm welcome,” Bellamy muttered to Octavia before following after Clarke.

They were taken to the center of the village where the Tree stood, stained red with the blood of those who had been punished upon it. There was even still fresh, red blood smeared from when Lincoln had last been here, tied to the tree and suffering through the Death of a Thousand Cuts before Octavia had saved him from that particular fate.

The funeral pyre was already set up; the eighteen deceased villagers prepared and wrapped in _Trikru_ custom. The guards carried Finn’s body forward and lifted it into place at the top of the pyre so the flames and the smoke from those he murdered could rise up and devour his corpse in retribution for their deaths.

Lexa motioned the Sky People to stand to the right of the pyre, the area reserved normally for guests in such a ceremony. Lincoln belonged with Octavia so he followed, standing behind her and Bellamy.

“ _Kru kom Tondisi. Raun faya, oso wada klin laudnes-de kom fotaim._ ” Lexa spoke eloquently and forcefully.

“People of Tondc. In fire, we cleanse the pain of the past.” Lincoln translated the words of the _Faya_ ritual for Octavia (and he supposed for Bellamy and the rest of the Sky People, too).

As Chief of the village, Indra passed the lit torch to Lexa, who as the _Heda kom Kongeda_ would light the pyre. Indra stood tall, thrusting her chest out as she steeled herself for the cleansing goodbye of eighteen of her people. Lincoln wanted to weep for her loss, for his loss, but instead, he inched his hand forward, his fingers searching for Octavia’s. She caught them, giving them a slight squeeze and calming the ache in his heart.

Lexa turned, holding out the torch. “Clarke.”

The ache in his chest came back. Indra bristled in fury, exchanging a look with Nyko at the seeming insult of their _Heda_ allowing a Sky Person to partake in their sacred ceremony. The rest of the villagers began murmuring their discontent as Clarke stepped forward and took the torch from Lexa.

She paused in contemplation before bringing the flame to the timber. “ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” she said with reverence.

Lincoln let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, relieved and a little bit astonished by Clarke’s respectful words and careful actions. Both Sindri and Indra even seemed appeased. The fuel on the wood quickly caught fire and soon the whole structure was engulfed in flames. The smoky, grey spirits of the dead drifted up to the heavens, unfettered from their physical entrapment. Lincoln mournfully watched them escape, remembering what it was like to be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Trigedasleng in this chapter so I cheated and used this handy page: https://sites.google.com/site/trigedaslengdictionary/translations


	17. Mounin Houm*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 5 of Remember Me: Where do Lincoln and Octavia disappear to after the funeral?  
> NSFW. I think I’m just stalling because I don’t want to hurt Raven.

* * *

After the ceremony, most of the village dispersed to finish preparing the feast for their _Heda_. They now had additional mouths to feed with the Sky People’s unexpected presence. It was deserted above ground; the only people about were Lexa’s guards and the rest of the Sky People so they didn’t have to worry about any further hostile encounters.

Octavia took Lincoln’s hand in hers. “Show me your village, Lincoln.”

He nodded and they walked along the various structures as he pointed out buildings he thought might interest her, like the tannery and Nyko’s hut. They came upon the food store that had been set on fire by Finn.

She paused, staring at the blackened skeleton of the building. “I never got to say goodbye to my mother,” she said somberly.

He embraced her from behind, hugging her close so he could kiss the top of her head in comfort as she had done so often for him.

“I feel like I got a chance to do that today.” She turned to look up at him and he kissed her lovingly on the lips. It was a difficult and depressing day for both of them.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her away from her lugubrious memories. “I want to show you my favorite place when I was a kid.” He led her over to the blacksmith’s shop, also deserted, the owner either dead in the massacre or scrambling with the other villagers to finish setting up the banquet.

She was enthralled with the place and began inspecting the tools and weapons left behind. “I should’ve known this would be your favorite.” She grinned.

He smiled back, a tiny thrill fluttering inside at sharing this part of himself with her.

“Where’d they all go?” she finally asked.

“Down below. This….” He waved his hand around the village. “…is only the business end.”

She giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“So you’re, you know…literal grounders.” She giggled again. “Above ground and below ground.”

He smiled. “I get it.”

There was no one around so he hauled her close, his hands splaying across her back, lifting her into his chest. Her arms went around his neck and she leaned up, her lips parting and the tip of her tongue flickering out in invitation. He bent down; capturing her tongue and sucking on it gently before letting her go again. The village might appear deserted but there were always people watching.

“Let’s go downstairs.” He took her by the hand again and they walked to one of the entrances to the underground station that served as home to the once well-populated village.

He guided her through the labyrinth of passageways and tunnels that had been carved out over the ninety-seven years since the world ended, taking her to a small nook. He paused, pointing at the wall, a bashful grin on his face as he showed her his first attempt at art.

Her fingers went up, tracing the engraved path of the shooting star as it fell to the planet below. “You did this?”

“Yeah.” He had told her about the spaceship he had seen come to earth when he was a boy. “He was my first kill.” He hadn’t told her his father had made him kill the man. “It bothered me for a long time afterward.”

She turned toward him, cupping his face, drawing his eyes to hers. “It still bothers you.”

He nodded.

“See?” Her fingers ran along his scalp in a caress. “You’re not that monster.”

She lifted her mouth to his, her lips pliant as her tongue prodded for entrance. They were secluded in this part of the tunnels; no one should come by. He kissed her back, pressing her up against the wall, his hand skimming up her side to her breast as he opened his mouth to hers. Her leg came up over his hip as his other hand slid down the front of her pants, their mouths swallowing each other as if starving. His fingers found her and began their dance across her nub, a fast, twirling number that left her soaking. He shoved his hand farther down her pants, using the heel of his palm on her bundle of nerves as he fingered her entrance.

She yanked her mouth away from his and crushed her face into his shoulder. Her tiny little moans vibrated against him, her teeth biting into him through his shirt as his fingers dove and curled inside her.

He bowed his head down toward hers. “Come for me, Angel,” he whispered, his tongue tracing the outer spiral of her ear.

She whimpered in response, her head falling to the hollow of his neck as she held onto his shoulders, her nails digging in as she rode out her climax.

“That’s my girl.” His fingers slowed as her muscles relaxed around them in the aftermath. He removed his hand from her pants and licked his fingers clean. “Ready to go eat?”

She shook her head.


	18. Let Us Drink Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 6 of Remember Me: The Feast and the Poisoning.

* * *

Lincoln led Octavia to the banquet hall, entering to see the rest of the _Trikru_ already gathered. Indra’s warriors were intermixed with Lexa’s guards, standing sentry around the perimeter of the room. Lexa had taken her place of prestige, standing in the center of the right side of the table flanked on either side by Indra and Gustus.

Octavia hesitated, uncertain where to go and a little intimidated. He placed his hand gently in the small of her back and steered her to the far end of the left side of the table, his mind already calculating defensive maneuvers in case he needed to protect her. She stood across from Nyko and Lincoln moved into place beside her, folding his hands in front of him in an attempt to dispel anyone’s unease about him still being a Reaper. He nodded in greeting to his old friend and was secretly overjoyed to see Nyko’s smile in return.

Led by Clarke, the rest of the Sky People arrived from up above. Clarke came to stand across from Lexa while Abby, the Sky People’s _Heda_ , filled the empty spot between Clarke and Octavia and across from Indra.

Kane went to the spot on Clarke’s other side, across from Gustus, and brought forward a sack. “Please accept this gift, Commander,” he said, revealing a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid. “We drink this at special occasions. I believe this qualifies.” He held out the bottle to Lexa.

Lexa turned to Gustus and nodded at him. He reached out and took the bottle from Kane before passing it over to Lexa. “Thank you, Marcus of the Sky People,” Lexa said.

Kane nodded. “You’re welcome, Lexa… _kom Trikru_ ,” he said respectfully. “Just don’t drink too much of it.”

Lexa turned to Clarke. “Clarke, let us drink together.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Clarke replied with the formality befitting the situation.

One of Lexa’s attendants proffered two goblets to Gustus. He took them and set them down for Lexa to pour the Sky People’s drink into them. Lexa then passed one goblet to Clarke.

“ _Heda_ , allow me.” Gustus reached for the goblet in Lexa’s hand and she passed it to him. He sipped, testing for poison as was his duty before passing the cup back to her.

“Tonight we celebrate our newfound peace,” Lexa said, addressing the entire room. “Tomorrow, we plan our war.” She lifted the goblet up. “To those we’ve lost. And to those we shall soon find.”

Clarke lifted her own goblet up and the two leaders brought the rim of the cups to their lips to partake of the liquid.

“Uh!” Gustus fell forward across the table, coughing and gagging. He staggered back, collapsing against the wall behind him.

“It’s poison!” Nyko shouted as he rushed to Gustus’ side.

Bellamy knocked the goblet out of Clarke’s hand as Indra unsheathed her sword, pointing it toward Clarke. “It was the Sky People.”

The guards and warriors around them began to close in. Lincoln hurriedly shoved back the bench, blocking two of the warriors as he moved into position in front of Octavia and Abby, protecting them from whatever may come.

“You have to know this wasn’t us,” Clarke shouted to Lexa even as Bellamy thrust her behind him and they tightened their circle defensively.

“ _Sou nou teik em wan op_.” Lexa commanded Nyko to not let Gustus die.

“ _Gon yo we! Pat emo daun_.” Indra ordered the villagers out and for her warriors to search them.

Full cooperation would keep them alive longer so Lincoln stood with his arms raised, allowing Indra’s warriors to pat him down, showing Octavia and Abby they should do the same.

“No.” Clarke pleaded from behind Bellamy. “No, no. We didn’t do this.”

“Gustus warned me about you but I didn’t listen,” Lexa said, simmering in anger as she stalked toward Clarke.

“Lexa, please.” Clarke begged.

“Tell me something, Clarke.” Lexa stared her down in challenge. “When you plunged the knife into the heart of the boy you loved, did you not wish that it was mine?”

“ _Heda_ ,” one of Lexa’s guard called out, lifting up a vial he pulled off Raven.

“That’s not mine,” Raven said in protest as the guard handed it over to Lexa, claiming he found it in her coat. “I’m telling you that’s not mine. He put it there when he searched me.”

“No Sky Person leaves this room!” Lexa shouted before storming off, her guards following swiftly behind.

“Do something,” Octavia whispered to him.

“Indra,” Lincoln called out. She kept walking, ignoring him. “Indra, _hod op!_ “ She stopped just outside the room, turning with her hand on the hilt of her sword. “ _Teik ai chich op kom emo_?” he asked her to let him speak for them.

“ _Yu sou laik emo_ ,” she said as she slammed the gate closed, locking them into the banquet hall.

He turned, looking to Octavia as his heart thudded too hard. To hear Indra say out loud he was one of the Sky People hurt worse than he realized.

“What did she say to you?” Octavia asked.

He shook his head.  “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

There was nothing else to do now but wait. He walked back toward the table, taking a seat on one of the benches that had been moved out of the way in the earlier upheaval. Even though the Red had helped him heal faster, the gunshot wound in his leg still throbbed. He needed to rest it in case they were going to have to fight their way out or flee.

Octavia followed him, sitting down beside him. “You can talk to me, Lincoln.”

She had already done so much for him and he didn’t want to burden her any further. “Thank you for shooting me.” It was important that she knew that.

She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “I had to.”

“I know.” He reached out, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He trusted her to do the right thing no matter what, even if things got worse and it meant leaving him behind or shooting him. He was getting red melancholy again so he changed the subject. “Do you believe Raven?”

Octavia glanced over to where Raven stood by herself, adjusting the brace on her leg. “Yes.” She looked back at Lincoln. “Poison’s not her style.” She fidgeted restlessly in her seat as Clarke approached Raven and they began murmuring. “We have to protect her.”

He nodded. Octavia was right; if Raven was innocent, she needed their help. He rested his arm behind her on the seatback. “You protect her, I’ll protect you.” It was all he knew how to do now: protect his reason for living.

“Argh!” Raven’s shout drew their attention as she punched Clarke in the face. “You’re the only murderer here!”

Octavia jumped to her feet, joining Abby at their side. Lincoln stayed back; it wasn’t his place to intrude but he still watched carefully. If there was any threat against Octavia, even from Raven, he would get involved.

Clarke stared at the locked gate. “Leave me alone,” she hissed. The other women followed her gaze, not seeing what wasn’t there. “You gave me no choice.” Clarke was being visited by spirits. “Why did you turn yourself in?” Finn’s, in particular.

“Hey,” Abby said, stepping in front of Clarke. “Baby, you okay?”

Clarke turned and wandered off to a corner by herself while Raven wisely joined Bellamy in the corner of the room farthest from Clarke.

Octavia returned to where Lincoln sat, leaning over the back of the seat, her hands inches from his. “Clarke’s losing it.”

He watched as Abby walked over to Clarke’s side and they began talking quietly together. “It’s a heavy burden,” he replied, overly familiar with being haunted.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Octavia asked worriedly.

He reached out with a finger to stroke the side of her hand. “Yeah, she’s strong.” Not like Octavia, though. There was a different, darker strength to Clarke; she was much more like Lexa in that respect.

“I was protecting everyone! I didn’t have a choice.” Clarke’s voice interrupted their discussion. “You did!”

“No!” Abby shouted as Octavia straightened up, ready to intervene again if necessary.

“You turned him in,” Clarke said.

Their voices lowered to a normal volume and Octavia leaned down again, resting her hand on the back of his chair. “They’re talking about Clarke’s dad,” she explained as Clarke got up from her chair and walked away from Abby.

“Clarke, please,” Abby called out.

Clarke turned back around and whispered something to her mother before stomping off to sit by herself in front of the exit.

“Should I go talk to her?” Octavia asked him.

“What can you say that Raven and Abby couldn’t?”

“You’re right.” Octavia frowned as she stood up again and began to pace. “And more important than Clarke’s breakdown, what do we do about Raven?”

He eased himself to his feet to catch her mid-pace. “If she didn’t do it, then who did?” Lincoln didn’t know Kane or Abby very well but he was fairly certain the rest of them were innocent.  “Let’s think this through.” He really meant let _her_ think about it because she was good at this sort of thing.

She nodded and resumed pacing.

Kane cautiously approached Clarke. “Tearing each other and yourself apart isn’t a way to get through this.” He sat down next to her on the steps leading to the barred gate. “Lexa needs this alliance just as much as we do. She’s shown herself to be flexible. She listens to you.”

“She thinks we tried to kill her,” Clarke said dejectedly.

“But we know we didn’t. So let’s figure out who did. Who would want her dead?” Kane asked.

“Too many to count,” Lincoln spoke up. “Forming an alliance with you was a risk, especially after what Finn did to this village.” He still tasted the bitterness of red anger when he thought of the massacre.

“So it had to be someone trying to break the alliance,” Octavia continued his train of thought.

Footsteps sounded on the stairwell outside their prison. Lincoln made sure Octavia was behind him as she made her way to Raven’s side. The gate opened and Nyko entered followed by Indra.

“How’s Gustus?” Lincoln asked the most important question.

“Gustus will live,” Nyko replied.

“ _Teik em we_ ,” Indra ordered and two of Lexa’s guards entered, pushing past Clarke and Kane.

“Wait, wait. What are you doing?” Kane asked.

Bellamy stormed up, obstructing the guards from Raven. “She didn’t poison anyone!”

“I argued for all of you to die but the Commander is merciful,” Indra said with disdain. “She wants only one.”

“She’s innocent,” Lincoln said.

“I don’t care.” Indra enunciated each word with a step as she marched down into the room. “They move, they bleed.”

One of the guards shoved Bellamy into Lincoln, causing the two of them to stumble as they grabbed Raven and dragged her past.

“Hey, stop! Let her go.” Octavia tried to futilely block them without inciting their violence.

“The rest of you are free,” Indra said as Raven was carried out of the room. “When she’s dead, so is the alliance.” She glared at them, her hatred of them proved justified in the poisoning of her _Heda_. “You should run.”


	19. These Are Your People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 7 of Remember Me: Raven and Gustus both suffer through the Death of a Thousand Cuts.

* * *

Lexa’s guards took Raven up to the Tree and tied her to it, her arms above her head, her legs quivering to support her without the assistance of her brace. Lincoln, along with the rest of the Sky People, were held back by the guards from getting too close, leaving them unable to do anything but watch.

Lexa began to walk toward Raven, her dagger at the ready. “I take no joy in this, Raven. But this time, justice will be done.”

Lincoln stepped closer, watching one of the guards raise his spear threateningly. He was frustrated at his helplessness and feeling guilty that if it were Octavia up there, he would have already lost his life trying to save her.

“I didn’t do it. How is that justice?” Raven asked through trembling lips.

Lexa laid the blade along Raven’s arm and Bellamy charged forward. “We have to do something.”

“Wait.” Kane held him back. “Wait. We can’t.”

“Lincoln, talk to them.” Octavia came up beside him as Lexa’s blade dug into Raven’s flesh, quickly slicing through her skin, causing the blood to start flowing in red trickles down her arm. This execution was more about Lexa appeasing the grieving villagers than it was about justice. Lincoln could still smell Raven’s ~~red~~ blood even from where he stood, warm, fresh, and coppery. Instead of ~~red~~ craving, he felt revulsion at what his people were doing to her.

Indra was next, lifting up Raven’s shirt. Whether it was symbolic or meant as a warning for him, she sliced her knife across the same spot on Raven’s stomach as she had cut on Lincoln.

“Lincoln, talk to them.” Octavia pleaded again. “These are your people.”

“Not anymore,” he said as he caught Nyko’s eye and walked toward him, Raven’s cries echoing in his ears.

“You’re no longer safe here, my friend,” Nyko said as he glanced nervously back at Lexa’s guards. “I’ll do my best to make sure you get away. Then you’ll be on your own.”

Lincoln nodded as Nyko embraced him in a hug he didn’t realize how badly he needed. Lincoln gripped him close, resting his cheek against Nyko’s, his heart overflowing with love for his dearest friend.

Bellamy’s voice jarred them from their goodbye. “Clarke, stop. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“I need that bottle. Now,” Clarke said as she marched past Lincoln and Nyko.  Nyko went back into his hut to retrieve it while Clarke tried to get past Lexa’s guards. “Stop!” she shouted.

Lexa turned around at the disruption. “Let her pass,” she said to the guards standing in Clarke’s way.

Clarke stormed past the guards and up to Lexa with Bellamy following closely and Abby and Kane trailing after. Lincoln held back behind the guards, knowing Octavia would stay by his side. He wasn’t willing to risk Octavia’s life with whatever Clarke had planned. He looked down at Octavia who was anxious and edgy, wanting to follow after Clarke, her face a mixture of curiosity and anger. At least from back here, she couldn’t punch anyone.

“One of your people tried to kill you, Lexa,” Clarke said. “Not one of mine.”

Indra stepped forward threateningly. “You should’ve run.”

Clarke ignored Indra as Nyko arrived with the bottle. “I can prove it.” She uncorked the bottle and took a hefty swig of the clear liquid. Everyone waited for a reaction similar to Gustus’. None came.

“Explain,” Lexa demanded.

“The poison wasn’t in the bottle,” Clarke replied. “It was in the cup.”

Gustus began whispering to Lexa, catching Bellamy’s attention. “It was you,” Bellamy stated. “He tested the cup. He searched Raven.” Lincoln was impressed. Octavia wasn’t the only smart one in her family. If Bellamy was right, they might all still survive.

“Gustus would never harm me,” Lexa said with conviction.

“You weren’t the target,” Bellamy replied. “The alliance was.”

“We didn’t do this and you know it,” Clarke said.

Lexa turned to Gustus. “ _Yu don ge finga au, Gostos. Ron ai ridiyo op_.” She told him to answer truthfully to the accusation.

“This alliance would cost you your life, _Heda_.” Gustus admitted his guilt. “I could not let that happen.” Gustus was duty-bound to protect her life, something Lincoln was intimately familiar with.

“This treachery will cost you yours,” Lexa said with a saddened resolve. “ _Teik em set raun ona tri_.” She ordered Gustus onto the tree. The people still wanted blood so Lexa would give it to them. Raven was safe at the expense of Gustus’ life. The Sky People were safe. Octavia was safe.

Lincoln nodded to Octavia and he followed after her as she rushed forward to help them get Raven down off the post. As Lexa’s guards tied Gustus up to the tree in Raven’s place, Clarke remained frozen, staring down Lexa. Octavia tugged on her sleeve, pulling her away and back behind the guards again.

Lexa turned to face Gustus with deep regret. She brought her dagger to his neck and sliced shallowly, starting the Death of a Thousand Cuts on Gustus.

Nyko and Abby began tending to Raven’s wounds while Bellamy found a blanket and draped it uselessly over her shoulders. Raven sat in forlorn silence as they fussed over her, watching Gustus suffer what she had just been through, what she had just been saved from.

“Hey.” Lincoln walked over to Octavia’s side. She was too quiet, too still. “You okay?”

“I can’t watch this again, Lincoln,” she said even as her eyes never left Gustus.

He took her hand in his and led her away unquestioningly. They weren’t allowed to leave the compound yet so he walked with her to the far end where the communal garden was. The sounds of Gustus’ cries grew fainter as they wandered between the fallow winter rows, the most-recent harvest having already been gathered.

“Ugh!” Another loud moan from Gustus reached them.

“It’s still not far enough.” Octavia sobbed, staggering away from him, clapping her hands over her ears to drown out Gustus’ groans of pain. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to his chest. She turned, her arms sliding around his waist. “I keep seeing you up there.” Her chest was heaving and she was trembling in his arms.

“I’m right here.” His hand stroked up and down her back, attempting to calm her. “You saved me, remember?“

She nodded, her head bumping his chin. “It’s not right,” she whispered. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He knew the punishment.” He inhaled deeply. “I knew the punishment.”

She leaned back, her eyes bloodshot with unshed tears. “It doesn’t make it right.”

“No, but he will die with honor, sacrificing his life for his _Heda_.” The same honor Lincoln would have when he eventually died for Octavia.

“Aaah!” A louder scream from Gustus this time.

Octavia tensed up and she started to move away from him again. He didn’t let her go, covering her ear and pressing her head tighter into his chest, blocking out the sounds of Gustus’ execution. He held her that way, hugging her close and rocking her until Gustus’ cries were no more.


	20. He'd Do Anything for Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20 of Part 2 of the Lincoln Chronicles. Part 8 of Remember Me: Clarke sends Bellamy to Mount Weather and Lincoln offers to join him.

* * *

They made camp that night just outside the walls of _Tondisi_. Clarke stood a distance away, quietly talking with Lexa while Octavia lay on her stomach next to him, idly poking a stick at their campfire. Bellamy crouched across from him, his eyes scrutinizing Lincoln with that pensive expression reserved only for him. He wondered if Bellamy was perceptive enough to know that Lincoln was trying to figure out a way to discreetly ask if he and Octavia might be able to use Bellamy’s tent again.

“How did you know it was Gustus?” Lincoln asked instead, watching the fire as the sparks rose and popped and disappeared into the evening sky like reverse shooting stars.

"He'd do anything for her. To protect her." Bellamy dropped his gaze from Lincoln to the fire. Lincoln looked down at Octavia, remembering he had told Bellamy that a few days earlier about Octavia.

“Look at the thanks he got,” Octavia replied. The withering glance she shot Bellamy was a subtle warning about Clarke. Bellamy returned her look, showing he already knew but it was too late.

“Guys,” Raven called out excitedly as she left her tent and made her way over to them.

Bellamy jumped up, alarmed. “What is it?”

“Listen to this,” Raven said as Clarke hurried over to them.

Lincoln and Octavia stood up and walked over to Raven’s side. She held a metal box in her hands, a radio they called it. It was making that squawking sound Lincoln remembered overhearing during the battle where Clarke had burned three hundred warriors.

“ _47 of us are trapped inside Mount Weather._ ” A tinny male voice came out of the box.

“Talk to him. Say something,” Clarke said.

“It’s repeating,” Raven replied.

“They’re alive.” Octavia sounded relieved.

“We need to do this now,” Bellamy said. “You’ve got the alliance. Now is the time to use it.”

“First, we need an inside man,” Clarke said. “You were right. Without someone on the inside to lower their defenses, turn off the acid fog, an army is useless. You should go.”

“I thought you hated that plan,” Bellamy replied, confusion furrowing his brow. “That I would get myself killed.”

“I was being weak,” Clarke said, sounding too much like Lexa for it to not be a coincidence. “It’s worth the risk.”

Bellamy inhaled sharply, as if struck a physical blow. He had become Clarke’s Gustus and was now to suffer the same fate.

Clarke reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out some paper. “My map of Mount Weather.” She handed it to Bellamy. “Find a way to get on that radio and talk to us.”

Bellamy paused a moment before snatching the map from her hand with resigned determination.

“Good luck,” Clarke said before leaving again.

“Bell, how are you gonna–.” Octavia started to ask.

“I can get you through the tunnels.” Lincoln interrupted Octavia. He wasn’t going to let Bellamy do this on his own. He had been helpless with Raven and Gustus but now he was able to give Bellamy a fighting chance.

“He can’t go back there,” Octavia said to Bellamy before turning to look up at Lincoln in reproach. “Not yet.”

“Let me show you what to look for,” Raven said as she led Bellamy back to her tent, leaving Lincoln alone to contend with Octavia’s wrath.

“Look, I have to,” Lincoln said. “I need to face what I’ve done.” He needed to know for certain that he wasn’t that monster, that the monster was gone. He needed to make recompense in some small way for the lives he took as a Reaper. He needed to keep her brother safe for her for as long as he was able.

“Then let’s face it,” she said stubbornly. “Together.”

“No,” he said softly as he stepped closer to her, eternally drawn to her. “You’re needed here. You know our ways. Without that, this alliance will fail.” He was despised and feared by both _Trikru_ and Sky People; she was respected by Abby and Marcus and had already earned Indra’s and Nyko’s tempered consideration. Anya probably would have liked her, too.

“I won’t let that happen,” she said with conviction.

He nodded and smiled, his hand going up in a gentle caress of her cheek, cradling it. “I know you won’t.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.”

She closed her eyes over her tears. “I can’t lose both of you.”

“Hey.” He tilted her head up and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I’ll get him safely through the tunnels and then I’ll come back.”

She threw her arms around his neck and smashed her lips to his, a tiny whimper escaping her. He opened his mouth over hers, his hand running through the braids in her hair, moving down her back, and drawing her closer.

“Ahem.”

It was Bellamy. If it had been anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have stopped kissing her.

“What, Bell?” Octavia asked in irritation.

Bellamy frowned as he glanced between them. “I’m gonna probably spend the rest of the night working with Raven on the plans for once I’m inside Mount Weather since she’s headed back to Camp Jaha in the morning.” He paused and stared uncomfortably long at Lincoln. “You can have my tent and I’ll see you at dawn.” He turned around and went back to Raven’s tent.

Octavia giggled. Lincoln loved her giggle. “Let’s go,” she whispered conspiratorially at him before heading off to the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've increased the Chapter count to 35 but I'm still expecting it might take more to finish Season 2.


	21. It Would Be My Pleasure*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between Remember Me and Survival of the Fittest. NSFW

* * *

He followed Octavia to Bellamy’s tent, as he followed her everywhere. He had never needed anyone before, always a loner, expecting to be alone always. In a few short weeks, however, that had all changed and he owed her his life in so many different ways. He was living on borrowed time and it all belonged to her; he would be by her side forever if she let him.

He climbed into the tent and zipped up the flap behind him. Octavia was already half-naked. He smiled. This time, he’d have the patience –.

She tackled him, covering his mouth with hers as she struggled to get his jacket off. He tried to help but his arms ended up trapped by his sides in the sleeves. She knocked him onto his back, unfastening the front of his pants as he struggled to free himself from the jacket.

He wrenched his mouth away from hers. “Slow down a bit, Love,” he said as he finally got rid of the jacket.

She sat up, topless and barefoot. Her mouth opened as if she were about to say something and then her damn lip quivered. She was going to cry. He sat up as well and quickly took her into his arms.

“Sorry,” she said into his chest. “I was hoping to do this after.”

He snorted. “Well, we’re doing it now.” He knew they used sex with each other as a coping mechanism. He was okay with that because it was a wonderful way to cope but what she needed right now was to talk and maybe cry a little.

“Okay.” She sighed. “Either take off your shirt or let me put mine back on.”

He took off his shirt. Being topless with her was always the right choice regardless of the conversation. “Come here.” He tugged her back into his arms.

“How could Clarke do that to him?”

“She’s right. We can’t get an army close with the yellow fog.” Lincoln wasn’t sure why he was defending Clarke except that he thought Octavia might need to hear it before he and Bellamy left tomorrow.

“If anything happens to him….” She faltered for words. “If anything happens to you….” And there went the tears. He held her and murmured soothing nonsense to her as his brave angel flushed the day’s wretchedness from her system.

When she finally seemed spent, he tilted her head up, wiping away the last of her tears with his thumbs. “Feel better?”

She sniffed and nodded. She crawled off his lap and over to his water flask to wash off her face. “You’d better be naked by the time I’m done.” She warned him.

He chuckled as he took off his shoes and the rest of his clothing, finishing before she turned around again. She smiled, pleased he was already undressed. She crawled back over to him ever so deliberately, licking her lips as her eyes roved hungrily over his body.  She trapped him by his shoulders, straddling him.

“My turn,” she said before her mouth swooped down on his, her tongue diving deep as her hands caressed down his shoulders, down his biceps, down to his hands, lacing their fingers together as she brought them up over his head.

Lincoln’s hips jutted up. She was still unfairly wearing her pants. Her hands slipped from his as she ran her fingers down the underside of his arms, her mouth moving to his neck. He tried to wrap his arms around her but she moved them back up. “My turn,” she said again, this time more sternly. He obeyed and closed his eyes, giving into her demands.

Her mouth returned to his neck while her fingers continued their caress along his sides and up his chest. She found his nipples and began to toy with them, sending shots of tingling lust straight to his groin, causing him to grind up into her, frustratingly barred from her warmth by her damned pants. She wriggled her way further down his body, her mouth moving to the center of his chest, her tongue swirling along the tattoos there as her hands ran across his muscled abdomen. Lincoln kept his eyes closed, her touch more than enough to send him over the edge without needing the additional visual.

Her hand went down between his legs, her fingers enclosing around his rod. His breath expelled in a heavy sigh as he held back a groan, his pelvis lurching up. She began to stroke him as her lips continued their journey down his belly. Her tongue swiped and licked ever closer and then she was sucking him into the warm, wet embrace of her mouth, sending his pelvis rocking. She worked her hand and mouth together, tugging and pulling him harder and harder as his hips jerked and his teeth bit back moans. Her tongue coiled around the tip of his cock, tapping the slit.

“Octavia.” He warned her he was about to come even as his hand came down on the top of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. She sucked harder. “Octavia.” This time it was a gurgle. He yanked on her hair one last time but it only encouraged her, her tongue twirling, her lips puckering, her hand squeezing. His lungs gasped for breath, his muscles trembled, and he thrust himself toward the back of her throat as he came.

She sat up with a grin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “That was for earlier.” She winked at him as she took a swig of water from his flask, the little imp.

He growled and reached for her, bringing her down to the furs and laying her on her stomach. His hands went around to the front of her, unbuckling her belt and working her pants and underwear off so she was as naked as him. She tried to roll over onto her back but he draped himself on top of her instead, his chest against her back, his cheek on hers. He ran his hands up her arms, pinning them above her head as she had done to him.

His mouth began its journey over her body; he read every inch of her skin with his lips, his hands forging a path for his tongue to follow. He started with her ear and her neck, nibbling along the most sensitive points, his teeth giving sharp bites of pleasure, his tongue coarse and prickling. He made his way across her shoulders, his hands running up and down her sides, his fingertips drumming desire along her ribs.

His lips moved down along the path of her spine and a small sigh escaped from her as her bottom rose up. He smiled as he kissed her, his hand pushing her butt back down, remaining there and massaging it as his mouth moved farther down. He nuzzled the base of her spine, his lips open on a kiss as his tongue rasped provocatively against her skin.

She whined into the furs beneath her as she raised her bottom up again. “Lincoln.” She was getting impatient with his unhurried exploration.

He ran his fingers over the curve of her cheek and between her legs, finding her wetness, tracing her labia. His mouth nipped along her bottom, moving into the crease at the back of her thigh. She tried to shift herself closer to his mouth, to his fingers as they teased at her creamy entrance but he moved his head away, frustrating her further. He left his hand there, poking and prodding at her passion but not entering her as he kissed along the back of her leg to behind her knee, his tongue tickling and arousing.

Her bottom rose up again and he finally allowed her to roll over. She raised one leg up, bending it at the knee as her hand came between her legs, showing him what she wanted from him. He shook his head at her with a grin as he removed her hand, holding it in his. Her other knee came up as she opened herself wider for him, planting her feet and lifting her hips to show him her longing.

He closed his eyes, unable to breathe at the sight without losing control. He grasped her knees with both hands and pressed a kiss to each one before he slid his hands down her inner thighs, his thumbs probing her lips open. His mouth soon followed, his tongue landing rough on her clitoris as his thumbs surged inside. She whimpered again as her hands clung to his head buried between her thighs. He grazed her bud with his teeth before following it with his tongue, causing her hips to buck against his mouth.

“Lincoln, please.” she gasped out, begging. “I need you inside me.”

Anything she asked, he would give. He rose up between her knees, guiding himself to her opening. Her swollen sex parted for him as he entered her excruciatingly slowly, prolonging his sensual torment of her. Just as slowly, he drew out of her before plunging back in. Again and again he moved within her, faster and harder, and she was soon overcome, her hands gripping his head to hers, her mouth open upon his cheek in a permanent gasp. He moaned into her ear, ramming into her deeper and deeper. Her heels dug into his buttocks, her muscles locking around him, her entire body convulsing. She throbbed and clenched around him, dragging him to the end as he reveled with her, filling her with his ecstasy.

He held her in his arms afterward, her head cradled on his shoulder, their legs entwined as he imprinted her body onto his to keep him company during the nights they would soon be apart. He sighed in contentment as he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

She trembled in his arms ever so slightly. “You okay?”

She nodded. Then she shook her head. “The worst year of my life was spent locked up on the Ark,” she whispered. “I had never been more alone in my life. My mother was dead, my brother, too for all I knew.” He kissed the top of her head and drew her in closer. “Then, in one day that all changed.” He felt her nails dig into him as she hugged him tighter. “I thought I had already lost Bellamy in the battle and then when we saved Nyko and you weren’t there….”

Lincoln remained silent; his hands skimming up and down her back, letting her formulate her words.

“I never knew anything could hurt worse than that year.” Her head tilted back and he rested his forehead against hers. “I learned I could survive without Bellamy but I’m not so sure I _want_ to survive without you.”

He kissed her then, unable to speak even if he wanted to. He knew he could no longer survive without her either. Once they were both breathless again, he pulled away, leaving one last peck on her forehead. “You will survive because you are brave.”

She poked him in the chest. “You’re supposed to say that you’re not going to die.”

He laughed. “You’ll just have to keep saving me then.”


	22. She Was Already Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First half of Survival of the Fittest. Blincoln fluff.

* * *

As Lincoln and Bellamy finished preparing to leave for the Mountain the next morning, Octavia flittered around them with almost motherly concern.

“You have the map, right, Bell?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer as he finished securing the pockets on his borrowed _Trikru_ jacket. Indra had passed along most of her deceased warriors’ gear to Lexa’s army and Lexa in turn had donated some of it to Lincoln and Bellamy to wear for their journey to Mount Weather. It was easier than directly asking Indra for the gear. Lincoln wasn’t sure who the clothes he wore once belonged to but he sent a prayer of thanks to them anyway for their sacrifice.

Octavia had moved over to stand in front of Lincoln, her head down as she fiddled with the front of his jacket, doing absolutely nothing beneficial. “You can do this,” she whispered so quietly Lincoln wasn’t sure if she was saying it to him or to herself.

“Hey, Angel?” He lifted her chin up. “You’ll do just fine.” She was headed back to Camp Jaha with the rest of the Sky People along with Indra and a few of her remaining warriors. “Try to get Indra to let you train with them.” Octavia was no match against actual warriors just yet but she had potential that even Indra should be able to see. Indra, whose eyes were currently boring holes into him, her hand in permanent residence on the hilt of her sword. “Show her what you’ve learned so far.”

She nodded resolutely. “I’m not afraid.”

“Come here, O.” Bellamy beckoned her over to his side, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Mom would be proud.” Bellamy squeezed her tighter, his eyes closing briefly as he sought composure for her sake. “Now say goodbye to your Grounder. We gotta get going.” He loosened his embrace and pressed a kiss into the top of her head before letting her go. Lincoln smiled to himself. He had unknowingly picked up from Octavia one of Bellamy’s habits of affection.

She was now back in his arms, smiling up at him because he was still smiling at her. When death was such a frequent part of life, saying goodbye to loved ones was just as important as trying to stay alive. He’d never had someone to say goodbye to before and now everyone from his village was watching, his _heda_ was watching, the Sky People were watching, even her damn brother was watching. He didn’t care. If he was going to die soon, he wasn’t about to apologize for his love of this woman.

He bent his head toward her as she rose up to meet him, her arms going around his neck as their mouths collided. His tongue thrust between her lips, hard and demanding, the sweet taste of Octavia drawing him in deeper until they were the only two people in existence.

“Ahem.” Of course it was Bellamy loudly clearing his throat, his patience finally waned, having enough of watching Lincoln make out with his sister.

Lincoln pulled back, resting his forehead on hers. Her eyes were filled with tears. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_ ,” he whispered the promise to her, giving her back some of the strength she had given him.

She inhaled a heavy, shuddering breath before hauling his head back down to hers and sending him away with a final taste of her lips to savor.

As they walked away, he looked back one last time at his angel, her right hand over her heart and tears in her eyes watching the two most important people in her life leave her behind.

* * *

They traveled for the first hour in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Clarke never came to say goodbye and he knew that was bothering Bellamy. For Lincoln, it was Octavia on his mind as always. This time, however, it was her absence he dwelled on. They hadn’t been apart for more than a few moments since she had saved him from the Red and now he had to prove he could fight it on his own. His fingers opened and closed reflexively, already missing her anchoring touch.

“How are we gonna get in?” Bellamy was the first to break the silence.

“I take you as my prisoner in exchange for the Red drug.” Lincoln swallowed imperceptibly. The task before him was one he imagined a million times over while tied up to the gurney back at Camp Jaha but it had never played out like this, especially not with Bellamy as his captive.

“How does that work?”

Lincoln closed his eyes briefly as he actively retrieved the memories he spent most of his time trying to avoid. “I disguise myself as a Reaper, tie you to a log, and bring you to the intake door.”

“What about the other Reapers?”

“We time it so they’re not there.” He was having difficulty drawing specifics out from the red cloud enveloping the memories of those red days. “Just you and me against the Mountain Men.”

“How many?”

Lincoln sighed. He wasn’t sure; they were green blobs to him, the only thing of importance had been the red vial they carried. “Not so many that we can’t take them out.” Especially after Clarke had revealed their weakness was their fragile armor and face masks.

“And once we take them out, I go through the intake door and you get back to Octavia.” Bellamy didn’t wait for a response from Lincoln as he continued to recite the plan out loud for the next fifteen minutes, including variations and contingencies if things went wrong.

Lincoln should have known that Bellamy was a talker; he loved to talk even more than his sister. It worked out well that Lincoln was a good listener. Well, sort of. He had stopped listening to Bellamy about five minutes ago. Movement in the distance caught his eye, a white deer grazing down the hill from them. Lincoln began stalking his prey, crouching low with his spear at the ready.

Bellamy followed behind, clueless but quiet…until he spoke again. “Wha–?”

“Shh.” Lincoln held up his hand as the deer paused in its grazing. He aimed and threw the spear, striking true and bringing down the animal. He climbed down the embankment separating them from his kill and yanked the spear from its side. Bellamy joined him as Lincoln knelt beside it, removing his dagger from its sheath. He paused, thanking the ancestors for the gift and apologizing to the deer that it would be left behind as carrion, feeding the bugs and animals of the forest.

He sliced open the underbelly of the deer, his knife digging ragged and deep, puncturing organs to get the ~~red~~ blood and guts flowing. He shoved his hands in. The warm, ~~red~~ fluid. Red viscosity on his fingers. The blood Red smell so tantalizing. His breathing increased as he brought his red hands to his face, wanting a taste to feed his red hunger. He resisted. He smeared it along his chin and cheeks instead, coating it down into his neck. Victorious.

Bellamy knelt down next to him. “Okay. So we make it to the intake door without any of the real Reapers seeing us. What happens then?” He was still rightfully nervous; this was a suicide mission for him.

Lincoln dipped his hands back into the belly of the animal, scooping up more of the red, hot blood and entrails. “I kill everyone and you slip inside,” he repeated what he said earlier as he spread the red blood on his warrior gear, rubbing it in to try to mask the missing scent of Reaper red sweat. In case they encountered any other Red warriors, it might help him go undetected.  “Limestone,” he asked Bellamy for the pouch Nyko had given him earlier.

Bellamy reached in his pocket for the leather bag and passed it to him. Lincoln opened it, dipping three of his red fingers inside, trying to keep his hand from visibly shaking. He exhaled, calming his nerves. He remembered what Octavia had said: he could do this. He wiped his fingers across his face, leaving three white streaks running from his forehead to his chin.

“Let’s go.” He passed the bag back to Bellamy. “We got a lot of ground to cover before dark.” He stood up, picking up the spear and leading the way again.

Bellamy made it about ten minutes before finally asking, “I need to know what happened after the intake door.”

Lincoln understood the logic behind the question. Bellamy was covering the bases in case something might happen and somehow he was taken in by the Mountain Men instead of sneaking in. The “something” and “somehow” being Lincoln. It was fair. “They remove your clothes, blast you with boiling water, and douse you with something that burns even worse.” He remembered the woman in blue suddenly, like a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. “From there, we were sorted. The others were tagged Harvest. I was tagged Cerberus, turned into a Reaper.”

“Cerberus. Three-headed dog that guards the underworld,” Bellamy said. Lincoln looked at him inquisitively, prompting Bellamy to explain. “My mom read mythology to us all the time. Octavia loved it.”

Of course she did. The corner of Lincoln’s mouth tilted into a smile. She also loved hearing Lincoln’s stories of his people.

Bellamy caught him smiling. “You’re good for her. You made her strong.”

“She was already strong.” She made _him_ strong.

Bellamy stopped walking. “Hey, I need to ask you something,” he said in such a grave voice, it caused Lincoln’s heart to jump as he turned around. “You protected my sister before you even knew her. Why?”

Lincoln glanced away briefly before stepping closer. He respected Bellamy enough to tell him. “When I was a boy, I saw a ship fall from the Sky, like Raven’s. The man inside was hurt, his body broken. I couldn’t get him out.”

“Suicide by earth,” Bellamy said. “I heard the stories in the guard. I just didn’t know they were true.”

“I brought him food, water. I didn’t speak the enemy’s language yet so I couldn’t understand him, but I wanted to. So on the third day, I told my father.” Lincoln hesitated, not wanting to go on but needing to, anyway. This man deserved to know the truth about his sister’s lover. “He made me kill him. The world has been trying to turn me into a monster for as long as I can remember. Let’s keep moving,” he said without pause. He quickly jogged away, Octavia’s words ringing in his head, telling him he wasn’t that monster even as he felt the Mountain tugging on those invisible Red threads still sewn through his red veins.

“Wait,” Bellamy called out. Lincoln stopped, turning back around. “Parking garage where we found you. It’s north.” Bellamy pointed to the left. “That way.”

Lincoln nodded his head in the direction he was already heading. “There’s a mine entrance closer to where the Reapers hand us over. We’ll go into the underworld when we have to, not before.” He heard Octavia’s voice again, this time whispering, _“not yet_.”


	23. Not Your Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part of Survival of the Fittest: Blincoln angst. Drug addiction and use warnings. Spoiler warning: includes the deleted scene from the Season 2 DVD.

* * *

They trudged along ever closer to the Mountain. _He can’t go back there. Not yet_. Octavia’s voice was on repeat and he was terrified she was right. He was determined to prove her wrong. Bellamy kept up a constant chatter on their journey. Lincoln didn’t mind; most of the talking involved stories about Octavia.

“You know, I helped my mom give birth to her.”

Lincoln nodded. Octavia had told him the story of her birth, proudly bragging about her brother’s part in it.

“She was so tiny and perfect.”

Lincoln smiled. She was still tiny and perfect. “Let’s stop here for a moment.” They were approaching the shadow of the Mountain and the knot in his stomach let him know he wasn’t quite ready to cross over. _Not yet_.

He searched around the small clearing, finding a hefty branch that would do the job. He removed the ax from his hip and took a seat as he began scraping along the branch, removing the twigs and slivers. Bellamy took out Clarke’s map of Mount Weather and studied it again even though he had already committed it to memory. He turned back around and walked over to Lincoln.

“The Mountain has many eyes between here and the tunnels,” Lincoln explained. It’s how they knew when to release the yellow cloud or when to open the intake door. “From now on, details must be exact.”

“What if we run into real Reapers? Won’t they wonder where you’ve been?”

Lincoln shook his head. “All they see is the Red. Once you take it, nothing else matters, just how you’ll get more.” He ran his hands along the log, feeling for splinters.

“How much do you remember from when you were on it?”

“Everything.” The knot in his stomach tightened as he stood up. “Turn around.”

Bellamy turned around and Lincoln laid the branch across Bellamy’s neck like a yoke. Bellamy raised his hands up, holding the log in position while Lincoln loosely tied him to it. He then placed a noose around his neck, taking the other end of the rope and turning it into a leash.

He led Bellamy forward, the Red pulling him where he needed to go, a red beacon emanating from the darkness of the Mountain. Each step he took was heavier than the last until he was plodding through red quicksand, his soul rebelling at what his mind craved.

They eventually approached the entrance to the Mountain just as Lincoln heard noises quickly followed by red stench. He grabbed Bellamy and yanked him down, ducking for cover. Three Reapers with three prisoners tied to a log. The Reapers made their way into the tunnel entrance with their bounty, disappearing into the dark underbelly.

“They didn’t see us,” Lincoln said. Or smell them either.

“What do we do?” Bellamy asked.

“Wait. Let them get to the intake door. Get their Red, get out, then we’ll go in.”

“Slow down. This could work for us. We join them. They’ll think you’re part of the pack. You said you didn’t notice details, right?”

He shook his head, turning around to face Bellamy. “No, the plan is I get you to the door, alone. You go with them, they’ll tie you to that log for real.” With Lincoln against only the Mountain Men, he stood a chance of surviving. Add in some Reapers and he’d never make it back to Octavia.

Bellamy licked his lips in frustration. “At least we’ll know I get inside.” Stubbornness was obviously a family trait.

“Inside a cage. Bled to death if you’re lucky. Or maybe they’ll turn you into a Reaper. Force you to kill your own.” Lincoln wished he could remember the faces of the men he’d killed but perhaps it was better he didn’t. “Eat them.” Hunger.

“All right,” Bellamy said. “Bad idea. We’ll wait.”

They waited a good hour to give the Reapers enough time to make their way to the intake door and get their Red. Maybe they didn’t need to wait that long but Lincoln could still hear Octavia telling him, _not yet_. 

He couldn’t do it. He had to do it. Bellamy had no one else. The internal war waged on as Bellamy silently and pensively watched him, waiting for their next move.  As evening began to fall, Lincoln finally mustered the courage to lead Bellamy to the entrance. The tangy, icy dankness reached his nostrils, bringing him to a halt as he broke out into a cold sweat.

“Come on. Let’s do this,” Bellamy said with resolve even as he glanced anxiously at Lincoln.

Lincoln took a few deep breaths, thinking of Octavia and her belief in him. _You’re not that monster_ , were the words he heard this time. He stepped forward into the tomblike entrance, returning once again to the clammy grasp of the Mountain’s bloody red fingers. _You can do this_.

Lincoln led Bellamy through the labyrinth of tunnels, the Red scent guiding his way better than any map. It was quiet, the only sound was their footsteps shuffling along, the smell of Red growing stronger the closer they got. His red line-of-sight was drawn to the ground. A discarded vial with a few drops of Red still inside. Such a waste.

“Why are we stopping?” Bellamy asked.

Lincoln hadn’t realized he had stopped. _You can do this_. He stepped on the vial, breaking the glass and spilling the Red into the dirt.

“You okay?” Bellamy asked, concern in his voice.

“As soon as they open the intake doors, we attack,” Lincoln said instead, reciting the plan out loud, reminding him of his duty. “Do not let it close.” If it closed, there would be no other way in for Bellamy unless as a prisoner. “Once they’re all dead, you go in. I’ll make it look like you escaped.” He inhaled deeply. “Once you’re inside –.”

“I know. “ Bellamy would be on his own.

A noise drew Lincoln’s ear. He turned, seeing the glow of torches bouncing through the tunnel. “Another raider party.” His heart fell. He turned to Bellamy and started to hastily remove the ropes from around his wrists.

“What are you doing?” Bellamy asked angrily.

“We have to go back. It’s the only way.”

Bellamy began struggling against him. “Go back? No way.”

“There’s three, maybe four. We can fight our way through.” He’d rather take his chance against the Red warriors. He didn’t want to return to the Red intake door and this was a sign from the ancestors that he wasn’t supposed to.

“We’ll never get a better chance than this.” Bellamy said argumentatively.

“I thought I could do this, but I can’t,” Lincoln finally admitted to Bellamy. “It’s over.”

“No. It’s not. We can join them.”

Lincoln shook his head. Bellamy didn’t understand. He didn’t understand what the Mountain Men did, he didn’t understand the unstoppable Reapers, and he didn’t understand the strength of the Red.

“Listen to me,” Bellamy said. “When they bring out the Red, you grab it, and you run like hell. The Reapers will go nuts, the Grounders will run, and the Mountain Men will have to deal with it. No one will be looking for a Grounder running into the Mountain.”

“I said no!” He yanked the log off Bellamy and turned just as a Reaper came around the corner.

“Argh!” Bellamy tackled Lincoln, shoving him against the wall. “Fight back,” he whispered. “They’ll think I’m trying to escape.”

They were going to have to do this Bellamy’s way after all. Lincoln easily maneuvered Bellamy to his knees, bringing his knife up and over him as the Red warrior approached.

“This one tried to wander off,” Lincoln spoke in _Trigedasleng_. “He’s mine.”

“ _Teik em kamp raun tribau-de_.” The Reaper told Lincoln to tie Bellamy to the log.

Lincoln hefted Bellamy to his feet with his arm still securely around his neck and walked him to the log. He turned him around, staring him in the eyes. Bellamy stared back with a mixture of trust and bravery, a look he had seen so often in Octavia. _You can do this_. Lincoln gave a slight nod as another Reaper blindfolded Bellamy.

He turned away, joining the Red warrior at the front. The red door would open, he’d grab the Red and run, leading the Red warriors and Mountain Men on a chase for the Red as Bellamy slipped into the bowels of the red Mountain.

They reached the intake red door. Lincoln held back; two Red warriors were already working to strip the prisoners down to their underwear. It didn’t require three so he was unable to get close to Bellamy to help loosen his red ropes. One of the Red warriors told them to hurry. The Mountain Men wouldn’t come until the red prisoners were ready red ready. Red.

Lincoln was finally able to get to Bellamy’s side, removing his red blindfold. Bellamy looked up at him, a sheen of nervous sweat glistening across his face. Lincoln nodded again. The red door would open and he’d grab the Red and Bellamy would sneak in. The plan was on repeat in his head, keeping him focused.

The door beeped open and Lincoln salivated at the red sound. The men in their green armor came streaming out. “Stay back or you won’t get your dose.” The red tone generator sounded loud and red, triggering the start of the red paralysis as Lincoln shuffled with the other Red warriors farther away from the red noise.

Bellamy nodded back at Lincoln, letting him know he was ready to run for the red door. The woman in the blue suit entered the tunnel and the door shut behind her with a red beep. The door was shut.

The door was shut!

Panic flashed across Bellamy’s face, another expression he shared with Octavia. Lincoln didn’t know what to do now. Red.

“First dose up.” One of the Red warriors knelt next to the Mountain Man who spoke, tilting his head as the syringe of Red was placed in his neck and the glorious Red liquid was injected. The Red Warrior stumbled to his feet, stumbled away and partway down the tunnel, stumbling until the Red agony set in and he fell, thrashing and seizing. “Next.” Another Red warrior took his place.

The woman in blue stopped in front of Bellamy and selected him for Harvest. The door was still shut. Lincoln had gotten everything so wrong in the red confusion. Bellamy looked to him but he was unable to nod back this time. Red.

“Next,” the Mountain Man with the Red syringes said as the last Red warrior knelt for his Red dose, receiving it and falling to his red side, already overtaken. “Next.”

Lincoln took a step forward. It was his red turn for the Red Red Red. His eyes never left Bellamy’s, perhaps hoping for another solution.

“Come on. Next.”

Bellamy glanced back at the Mountain Man, the man Lincoln was supposed to kill, the man who held his Red. But it was too late. The red door was closed. He stepped closer to the Mountain Man with the Red syringe. Fight. Red. Fight. Red. Red. Red.

“Let’s move it,” the Mountain Man said impatiently.

Lincoln’s legs gave out in red fatigue and he fell to his red knees, unable to even apologize for his red weakness. Red craving. Red joy. Red bliss.

Bellamy shook his head at him, a silent plea frozen on his red lips.

Lincoln’s red head traitorously tilted, exposing his red neck for the Red syringe. The red needle pieced his red skin and there was the swoosh of Red gushing through his veins. His eyes rolled back, the long-forgotten burn charging through like a wildfire in his blood, sending it bubbling and boiling. A full dose of Red agony when he no longer had a tolerance built up. He fell to his side, grunting as the never-forgotten euphoria already started creeping in, more potent, almost like the first time.

One of the Food fought back and was quickly subdued. The face. He recognized the face. His angel’s brother. His angel. His angel’s face. They were dragging his angel away and into the red Mountain. He couldn’t move; trapped between Red pain and Red pleasure, knowing he had failed as the red door closed behind her and the Red built up to a fevered pitch.

“Aaah!” He screamed in perpetual Red Agony as his red soul shattered under the onslaught like that fragile vial of exquisite Red under his boot.

And then there was only Red Ecstasy.


	24. Ge Smak Daun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coup de Grâce and Rubicon. Drug use and withdrawal warnings.

* * *

Red.

Red joy. Red.

RED. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. RED. His Red Euphoria was waning. Red. No previous Red doses to sustain it. Red.

HUNGER. Red Hunger. He tilted listlessly through the mines. Red Red fogging his path red. Hunger. He was that monster. Red hunger. Hot. Octavia. Red monster. Red Hunger. Octavia. Red. MONSTER Red. Red. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red. Monster. Hot. Hunger. Red. Octavia was a red prisoner in the Red Mountain. RED. 

Red. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red monster. She was captive now, being bled dry. Red. Or already red dead red or mostly red dead. Red. Red. Red. Left in the mine carts for the Red Red warriors to feast on. Red. He could go. RED. Wait for her body to tumble down. Red monster. Red Hunger. But he couldn’t. Hunger. The bodies. HUNGER. No! He careened away from the red tunnel that would lead him to the red mine carts full of red bodies. HUNGER! RED HUNGER! So hot, hot, hot.

Hunger. Octavia. So hungry. Deer. HUNGER! The deer he killed before. RED. The red blood red still smeared in his clothing. HUNGER. Monster. Hunger. Hot. Hot red hunger. The white deer. Hunger. Eat the deer. Hunger. Octavia. Monstrous hunger. Fever. Hunger. Hot. HUNGER! Red. No Red depot to keep the red peak flowing red. Red.

Red. Hunger. Smell. Decaying carcass. Eat. No. Red. Hunger. Eat. Not Fresh. Hunger. Not Warm. Hunger. Octavia. Hunger. Use Hunger to Eat dead. Red. EAT. EAT dead. Red. HUNGER. Hot. Fever. Octavia. HUNGER. EAT, Eat, eat, eat, eat, eat.

Sleep. Octavia. Sleep. Red guilt. Sleep. Redmares. Sleep.

Sleep, Monster, sleep.

Red. Wake. Red. Self-loathing. Red. Monster. Red. Red monster. Red Dead Red meat lay beside him, mutilated, torn apart by a ravenous red MONSTER. Red. Red. Self-hatred. Red. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red Monster. He wanted to red die. Red. He wanted more red Red. Red. Red. Self whimpering. Red. Broken. Broken Red Monster.

Red. Thirsty. Hot. Thirsty. He staggered to his feet. Red. Hot. Thirsty. He wandered. Red directionless. Water. Thirsty. Drink. Drink. Thirsty. Hot. Drink, drink, drink, drink. Red. The water helped. Red. Plan. More Red. Gifts for Red. Quint. Red. Finn. Red. Gifts for Red. Red justified. Finn dead. No Red Red. Quint was in _Tondisi_. Red. Red justified. Red.

Red. Red. Octavia. Red. His Red heart beat faster. Red. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red. Octavia was in the red Mountain. Red. No, the Sky Camp. Red. Bellamy. Red. Self whimpering. Broken Red Monster.

Red. He neared the village. Red. Too many prey. Red. Stay in the forest. Red. He had one prey in mind. Red. Quint. Red. Red. Too many prey. Red. He would go up in the trees to look for Quint. Red. First, he prepped. Red. Red rope. Red. Red wood. Red. Octavia. He had control. Red. Control. Red. He had no red control. Red. Self whimpering. Broken Red Monster.

Noise. Red. Prey was coming. Red heartbeat. He easily overpowered the _Azgeda_ warrior. _Azgeda_ was like Quint. Red justified. _Azgeda_ gift for Red. He propped the unconscious prey on the red branch and arranged the red rope red. Red.

Smell. Octavia. Smell. More Prey. No, Octavia. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red. Octavia was in the Red Mountain. Red. No, Bellamy. Red. Octavia was in the Sky Camp. Red. No, she was in _Tondisi_ , witnessing his spectacular Red plummet. Red. Self whimpering. Broken Red Monster.

“Lincoln?” Octavia. She was standing over him. “What are you doing?”

Red. He should have known she would be here. Octavia. Red. Their souls were inexorably linked. Red. Calling out to each other even through the Red. Red. Octavia. He looked down, red ashamed. Broken Red Monster. He didn’t answer. Red. He couldn’t. He needed Red. Red. Red. He was a Broken Red Monster. 

“Get away from him.”

He needed Red. He couldn’t. Red. Broken Red Monster. He fell over. She pushed him. Red surprise. Red ~~anger~~. Octavia. Red fear. Fear.

“I said get away from him!” Octavia. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Her sword out, pointed at him, ready red ready to stop him. She had left him. Red. Shot him. Red. And was now willing to end his miserable red life for him. Octavia. Red. Self whimpering. Broken Red Monster.

“You don’t understand.” He was a broken red monster. “I can’t fight it.”

“Yes, you can.” She sheathed her sword and crouched down next to him. “ _We_ can.”

“I betrayed your brother.” Betrayed her. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. “He’s a prisoner in the Mountain because of me.” His red voice broke. Broken like his red soul.

“Lincoln, I don’t know what happened between you two, but Bellamy made it. He’s fine. We’ve got our inside man. Now I need you to come with me.”

He was red weak. He betrayed her brother. He was red worthless. Betrayed her. He was a Broken Red Monster. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red. He shook his head. Red. He was a Broken Red Monster now. He would take his _Azgeda_ gift to the Mountain for more Red Red. Red. He reached for the Red rope again. Broken RED Monster. Red.

She raised up her right hand and swung her fist at him, connecting bluntly with his head, making his ears ring. A _Trikru_ challenge that she was willing to fight him for his _Azgeda_ gift.

“ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_!” She shouted at him. “Grounders don’t give up. We fight. Either you get up and we fight this or you crawl away and die alone like a coward.” She sniffed back an angry sob. “It’s your choice.”

Broken Red Monster. He had no choice. The Red chose for him. Self-loathing. Red Tears. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red Crying. Self-hatred. Self whimpering. Broken Red Monster. Self whimpering.

Her arms wrapped around him. Octavia. He stank of red sweat. Red death. Red blood. Red tears. He had red failed. Broken red monster. Octavia. She smelled of glory and life and redemption. Octavia. Her touch. Octavia. Red crying. Crying. Her fingers on his bare head. Octavia. Red weary. Weary. His face buried in her chest. Octavia. Red broken. Broken. The leather strap of her scabbard bit into his cheek but it didn’t matter. Octavia. Crying. Tears. Broken. His arms wound around her waist, his shoulders heaving with weary sobs. Octavia. He couldn’t do it alone. Octavia.

“We fight this,” she whispered into the top of his head before kissing it tenderly. “Together.”

Octavia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might not be until after the weekend.


	25. You’re Not That Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Rubicon. Drug withdrawal warning. Introducing Atohl of the Ice Nation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 25th chapter to celebrate the release of Season 2 on Netflix! And Happy Halloween, everyone!

* * *

“Ugh!” The _Azgeda_ gift grunted as he started to wake.

Octavia hurried to untie him before he became red aware. Octavia. She helped the _Azgeda_ sit up. “There you go, Atohl. Nice and easy.”

“What happened?” The _Azgeda_ rubbed at his red throat. Lincoln had rendered him unconscious with a choke-hold from behind.

“Oh, nothing,” Octavia replied. “You’ll be fine.”

“What’d you do, Sky Girl?” The _Azgeda_ looked at her suspiciously. Red.

Lincoln growled.

Atohl finally noticed him, red scampering back in surprise. “Who the hell is this?”

“That’s Lincoln.” Octavia smiled innocently. “He saved you from a Reaper.”

“ _The_ Lincoln?” Atohl now eyed Lincoln red suspiciously.

Octavia nodded. “Do you want me to take you back to your Chief or are you fit enough to go stand watch?”

The _Azgeda_ red glared at her. “You’re supposed to be on watch with me.”

Lincoln growled again. Red. The _Azgeda_ gift was taunting him with his continued Red presence. Octavia.

“Who do you think was on watch while you took a nap just now?” Octavia asked.

The _Azgeda_ gift grumbled but finally stood up, eyeing Lincoln like the Broken Red Monster he was. Red. “I don’t trust you anyway, Sky Girl,” he said as he hastened away from Lincoln’s Red stare. Red. Red.

Octavia.

“You did, you know,” she said to him once Atohl was out of sight.

“What?” Red confusion.

“You saved him from a Reaper.”

He shook his head. His mouth opened but instead of words came more red tears.

She dragged him back into her arms. “You’re not that monster,” she reminded him as her lips found his ear.  She began humming to him, a lullaby he was certain he had heard before. Red memory. Red. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. Red. He didn’t want to live with the red shame of all he had done. Red.

“Why?” It came out strangled and broken and red, like he was. Red. He wanted more Red. Red. He needed more Red. Red would help him forget. “Why won’t you just let me die?” He deserved to die. RED. He would rather she killed him now. Red. Red. RED.

“Because you’re not alone, anymore. You don’t get to just give up.” She kissed him then, on the lips; that caring and loving kiss of hers that calmed the raging red voice in his head and warmed his red dead heart to beating again. “This is what it’s like when someone loves you, Lincoln.”

He gave a shuddering exhale, a broken red whimper. Octavia. He had chosen the Red over Octavia. He turned his head away in red humiliation.

She lifted his face to hers, not letting him hide any more. “I love you, Lincoln.” She kissed him again. “I love you and we’re in this together.”

They had never said the words out loud to each other before. Oh, he had known and she had known since that very first moment when she had cut herself with his poisoned red dagger in order to save his lonely red life. Octavia. But just like their goodbyes left unspoken, they had both been too terrified to vocalize what was in their hearts, that if they did, their love would be snatched cruelly away from them by the merciless universe. Octavia. It didn’t matter anymore because he needed to hear them. Octavia. He needed to speak them and give them power over the Red.

It came out as a red broken sob falling from his broken red lips. “I love you.” Octavia. He needed her. He was so broken. He couldn’t do it without her. “Please….” Broken. So broken. Octavia. He needed her to help him fight this, to take some of this hideous red burden from his shoulders. Octavia.

She nodded, her eyes flooded with her love for him. She kissed him tenderly once more as her fingers wiped away his red tears. The Red knot around his red broken heart loosened. She cupped his cheeks as she leaned her forehead against his. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.” This time, she whispered it to him like a safeguard.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She helped him to his feet, her arms going around his waist and her cheek resting on his chest.

He stood there, feeling useless and empty as he tried to breathe through the abject Red worthlessness that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him again. Octavia. She was his mainstay. Octavia. His arms encircled her, hugging her back. Octavia. She was his lifeblood. Octavia. His cheek rested on top of her head. Octavia.

She relaxed her embrace, leaning back in his arms. “We’re gonna be okay,” she said reassuringly, her eyes traveling across his weary red expression. Octavia. She must have liked what she saw because she nodded. “We’re okay.”

“What do we do now?” he asked, relinquishing red control to her.

“We go into _Tondisi_.”

“I can’t.” Too many prey. “There’s too many people.” He was never comfortable around people to begin with, especially not right now, not with the Red still flowing heady in his veins.

“That’s because the Twelve Clans are meeting up for the alliance.” She paused, her hand going up to caress his cheek. “We need to talk with Indra.”

His mouth went dry, his throat clenched shut. Indra who disavowed him as a traitor and a Reaper, two very true things. He shook his head warily.

Octavia smirked at him and nodded. “Indra made me her Second.”

Lincoln smiled. No, he fucking beamed. He had never doubted his tiny, perfect warrior to be anything less than her spectacular self but he was surprised that Indra had taken so well to Octavia and so quickly. “I knew  – .”

A sound like rumbling, boiling thunder screeched and whistled across the evening sky, drawing their gazes up. Red lightning flashed through the trees just before a blasting, bursting fireball appeared where _Tondisi_ once stood. His eyes widened as he turned away from it, shoving Octavia to the ground and landing on top of her, covering her with his body as the explosive percussion washed over them, momentarily stunning him.

“Octavia!” His voice never reached his ears. He rolled her over, cradling her face, running his hands up and down her body, checking her for ~~injury~~ new injuries. She was a mess of healing scratches and yellowed bruises he hadn’t noticed earlier through the red fog. Two black eyes, a nasty laceration across her cheek. What had his angel been up to?

“Lincoln?” She mouthed his name, her face muddled in panic. Maybe she spoke it. All he heard was red ringing. She looked dazed and alarmed but otherwise okay. She began talking but no words came out.

He gestured to his ears, shaking his head. Red deaf.

“Are you okay?” Her voice sounded faint, like she was calling out over a great distance. Red jumbled.

He nodded, helping her stand. Octavia. He was red disoriented. “What happened?” He was red confused.

Her jaw tightened in anger as she pointed. “ _Tondisi_ just got bombed.”

Lincoln looked toward the glowing remnants of what was once his village, the acrid smell permeating the air around them, making it thick and oppressive and nearly unbreathable. Along with the stench of death and destruction returned his full hearing. The chirruping of crickets in the night sounded macabre in the wake of such desolation until he realized it was the muted cries and screams of survivors.

“We have to go help them,” he said, already moving toward the chaos and carnage with Octavia following closely behind.

Where once the wall around the village stood, there was now a hill of dirt and debris. They climbed to the top, discovering the crater nestled within, filled with charred limbs and obliterated buildings. Small fires burned unchecked, the hazy smoke casting a nightmarish distortion on the already-horrific and devastating landscape before him. The wounded struggled to help the dying; crushed under rubble and rock, in shock, calling out for loved ones, calling out in pain, calling out in desperation. Haunting cries, wailing cries, grieving cries. But there weren’t very many. There should have been more. There were too many unable to cry out. Too many dead.

Octavia’s hand crept into his as a small whimper escaped her lips. He squeezed it back, unable to comprehend.


	26. Gyon op Nodotaim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part of Resurrection. It’s all (mostly) uphill from here.

* * *

Octavia climbed down the embankment with Lincoln close behind her, catching her arm when she slipped. Their footing was careful in the soft, unsettled dirt as they made their way over and around remnants of fractured buildings, listening for cries of people trapped. The other Seconds who had also been on watch and out of the blast zone soon joined them and they quickly set to work on digging out any possible survivors.

“Lincoln, be careful. It’s not stable.” Octavia cautioned him as he scaled across a precarious section of the ruins.

“They’re down there.” The strength of the Red was still flowing through Lincoln’s veins and he needed to use it productively. He tried lifting a slab of concrete out of the way. “Yaaagh!” It wouldn’t budge.

“Do you hear someone?” Abby’s voice called out from across the way where she was bandaging someone’s leg wound.

Octavia rushed over to her side. “Abby, I’m sure Clarke is okay. We’ll find her.”

Lincoln finally managed to get the slab of concrete moved. “Indra!” She had fallen into a pocket of protection, entombed and sheltered from the worst of it. “She’s alive!” He cleared away more rubble. “Oh, Indra!” He wanted to cry in relief that she was not dead. “Raagh!” He grabbed her beneath the arms as he dragged her out from under the unstable wreckage that threatened to crush her at any moment.

Octavia and Abby reached his side just as Indra awoke, screaming, “ _Set ai daun, Ripa_!” She shoved him away and staggered to her feet. She spun around, dumbfounded and in disoriented bewilderment at the devastation wrought yet again upon her once-peaceful village.

 _Crack!_ Indra collapsed to the ground. Lincoln rushed to her side, ducking as something whizzed by his ear followed by another loud, echoing crack.

“Sniper!” someone shouted in warning.

“Octavia, go!” He motioned for her to get to cover from the sniper as he grasped Indra around the waist and heaved her behind the nearest chunk of debris.

Abby ran in the opposite direction, hiding behind a boulder as another survivor was brought down by the sniper. It was a common tactic of the Mountain Men to take potshots at villagers, almost like target practice. It would go on for hours, leaving everyone imprisoned and reminding them of how easily the Mountain Men controlled them. The Mountain Men were now using this same morbid game to keep them from rescuing survivors.

Lincoln crouched next to Indra, trying to get her to allow him to check her wound. He glanced across the open space to Octavia and saw Nyko. Dear, blessed Nyko was still alive and trying to make his way over to Indra. Another round of suppressive fire soon had Nyko trapped down next to Octavia and the other Seconds.

“Lincoln!” Nyko called out. “You must stop the bleeding.”

Lincoln reached for Indra’s left shoulder but she still managed to protest. “Indra, let me help you.”

“No,” she said with all the unwavering obstinacy she could muster after having been bombed and then shot. Lincoln frowned; it was no surprise why Indra had taken so well to Octavia.

“What do we do?” Octavia asked. One of the Seconds pinned down with her made a run for it. “Lowan, no!” He collapsed, shot.

“We’re trapped,” said another one of the Seconds, a _Sankru_ by her tattoos.

“I say we use the Sky Girl to draw fire.” It was the _Azgeda_ red gift, Atohl. Lincoln’s jaw clenched red.

“You got a problem?” Octavia asked confrontationally.

“Yes,” Atohl replied. “You are the bringers of death.” At least he was honest.

Lincoln decided to take Atohl’s advice anyway and he waited for someone else to draw the sniper’s fire. He whispered to Indra, “Now,” as he slung her over his shoulder and began running for cover outside the sniper’s scope.

“Go, go!” Nyko shepherded the other Seconds to safety.

Lincoln carried Indra past where Octavia was still hunkered down, not leaving her mentor behind. “Octavia, come on!” Bullets ricocheted around them but none found their mark and they made it to where Nyko waited out of range of the sniper. He lowered Indra down as Nyko rolled out his field kit.

“What are we gonna do?” Nyko asked. “We can’t move.”

“I’m going for the shooter,” Lincoln said. He felt Octavia’s eyes on him in concern. The Mountain might control him with the Red but the Mountain Men were in his territory now. “I’ll sound the horn when it’s done.”

“All right, my friend.” Nyko agreed as Lincoln snagged the horn off of Nyko’s bag.

“I’m going with you,” Octavia said.

“No, Nyko needs you here.” Not only because of her medical expertise from helping Clarke and Abby but also as Indra’s Second. He wasn’t going to let her lose this chance to finally belong because she was worried about him.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” She was checking on him, letting him know it was okay to say no.

This was something he could do. It was something he was born to do as both a warrior and a scout. It was second nature. He looked her in the eyes so she could see the truth. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.”

She returned his gaze, her faith in him shining out over her worry. He brought his hand to her cheek, tugging her closer and resting his forehead against hers, their eyes exchanging their silent goodbyes and love for each other.

She nodded in understanding as she whispered back, “ _Gyon op nodotaim_.”

He stood up, taking one last look at his angel as his thumb brushed a final caress upon her cheek. And then he was gone, now focused on the task in front of him, his lifelong training taking over as he began stalking his prey.


	27. You Are My People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Middle part of Resurrection. Lincoln and Clarke bonding moment.

 

* * *

Once he was far enough away from the chaos that was formerly _Tondisi_ , he went behind a tree and puked. Seeing the partially-digested, two-day-old deer he had eaten under the influence of the Red hunger made him puke some more. Lincoln knew the cause of his nausea wasn’t withdrawal from the Red or from eating most-likely tainted meat; it was from what he had witnessed in the aftermath of the Mountain Men’s missile. He wondered if this was how Anya must have felt after seeing what Clarke had done to her warriors. But these people hadn’t been warriors. He threw up again; it was mostly bile and dry heaving at this point.

Lincoln turned back and forced himself to look once more upon the terrible annihilation of his village, the smoke rising from the smoldering ruins in an ominous gloom. Just like the massacre, just like with Raven, this wasn’t right. Hot. The Mountain Men were bigger monsters than he was. With his stomach finally emptied, he continued on to higher ground, where the snipers usually hid. Lincoln only counted one shooter this time but there was still about a mile radius where the sniper might be hiding. The sounds of the rifle stopped momentarily, meaning the shooter had taken a break either to reload or to move on to his next vantage point.

He soon came across an empty foxhole, spent shells, a discarded green suit and helmet, leftover food. Hunger. The sniper had been setting up around _Tondisi_ for at least a couple of days. Lincoln continued on, knowing it unlikely for the sniper to return. The cracks of the rifle soon resumed. Each time he heard a shot, his heart sputtered that it might have been Octavia on the other end. 

He tracked his prey, moving from one blind to the next, always too late but ever closer. He turned away from yet another abandoned site and began looking for signs of the direction his prey had gone in next. He heard a noise in the trees behind him. Two prey. It wasn’t the sniper but he ran for cover anyway, creeping closer as he tried to identify who else was out there with him and if they were friend or foe.

“Lincoln,” one of the two figures called out softly, recognizing him.

He stood up and stepped closer in red confusion. “Clarke?” Her notorious blonde hair was hidden beneath a shawl and she was with another woman similarly covered. More red confusion. “Commander, wh…. Octavia said you were both–.”

“You’ve seen Octavia?” Clarke interrupted him with an almost-guilty hope.

“Yeah.” He nodded. Octavia had thought they were buried under the rubble of _Tondisi_. Red confusion. “The few who survived the explosion are being pinned down by a sniper. That’s why I’m here.”

“Come on,” Lexa said as the crack of the rifle started echoing again. “We need to get to the higher ground.” Lexa took off running with Clarke hurrying after.

Lincoln took the lead simply because he was a better tracker than Lexa; she had been chosen as a commander so young that most of her training had focused on that aspect. His senses were also still heightened from the Red but he wasn’t about to share that with either of them. He just hoped he didn’t start going through obvious signs of withdrawal in front of them. He wasn’t even certain if he would go through withdrawal this time because it had been only the one dose. Red. His mouth watered. Octavia.

Dawn was breaking when Lincoln finally caught the fresh scent of their prey. They stole up the hillside, staying low and moving from brush to rock to shrub to boulder. Lincoln paused with his back to the boulder, waiting for Clarke and Lexa to catch up. A missed shot at Clarke had them ducking next to him as he peered around the boulder. _Crack!_ Another missed shot.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Lexa said dryly.

“I’ll draw his fire.” Lincoln was the obvious choice; both Clarke and Lexa were too important to be used as a distraction.

“No,” Clarke said firmly. “I will.”

Lincoln didn’t miss the look of worry that crossed Lexa’s face when Clarke stood up and started shooting at the sniper. He nodded to Lexa and she nodded back. He took off, his ax in hand as he stealthily approached his prey.

Clarke stopped shooting and the sniper poked his head out to investigate. Lincoln waited, crouched low, his muscles tensed as he prepared to strike. The sniper stood up cautiously, his rifle at the ready as he crept out from his shelter.

“Aargh!” Lincoln pounced, knocking the rifle out of the sniper’s hands. They grappled as the sniper tried to put up a fight with Lincoln losing his ax in the process, but he soon had the sniper on the ground. He straddled him, punching him again and again till his red mouth bled red. Red. Red. RED. Lincoln retrieved his RED knife from his hip. RED. HUNGER. RED. Octavia. Killing under the influence of the Red. Red. His hand wavered. Octavia. _Gyon op nodotaim_. He brought the knife up over his head to strike the death blow.

The knife dropped from his hand; his head battered in by that shrieking, paralyzing, ear-splitting Red tone. The sniper recognized him for the broken red monster he was and used a tone generator against him. Red. His hands went up defensively to protect his ears, already sensitive from the Red Red, already raw from the explosion. Red. The sniper quickly took his advantage and had Lincoln around the neck, the knife Lincoln dropped being used against him. He had RED failed again. Octavia.

Clarke came out from behind the boulder pointing her gun at them.

“Drop your weapon,” the sniper ordered Clarke.

“Gah!” He had red failed again. “Just let him kill me, then take him out.” At least let his red failure not be in vain. “Go on, Clarke! Please!” Let his red failure mean something. “Your people need you.” Octavia. His last thought would be of Octavia. Octavia.

“You are my people,” Clarke replied.

Lincoln didn’t even register the bang of Clarke’s gun, his hearing a lost cause at this point. Octavia. He felt the bullet tear through his shoulder and he fell to his knees as the sniper’s hold dropped. Octavia.

“Ah!” He clutched at his shoulder as the sniper fell dead beside him. He pulled his hand away, his own red blood sticking to it. A perfect, impossible shot had gone through Lincoln and found its mark in the Mountain Man’s dead red heart. “Good shot.”

Lexa approached Clarke as Lincoln bowed his head, closing his eyes in silent gratefulness. He had expected to die. A part of him still wanted to die, but the ancestors weren’t ready for Lincoln to join them today. Octavia. _Gyon op nodotaim_.

Lincoln climbed back up to his feet, sparing only a glance for the dead Mountain Man. Clarke helped him remove his outer gear, the red stench of blood, death, and sweat leaving with it. As he reached for Nyko’s horn, Clarke began tending to his wounds much like she had done when Anya had shot him with an arrow. He glanced over at Lexa who was watching Clarke with rapt attention, enthralled with her healing abilities. Lincoln smiled. He had known Lexa all her life and he was fairly certain his _Heda_ might have a crush on the blonde healer.

He held the horn out to Lexa. “Commander?”

Lexa startled from her gawking and took the horn from him, moving away to give the two long blasts signaling the sniper was no longer a threat. Clarke didn’t say anything as she finished bandaging him up, her sorrowful eyes letting him know she wasn’t free of her own demons yet.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely to Clarke. She had saved him from red failure, saved his life, and called him her people. He knew he wasn’t wrong about her darkness but he was still honored to bask in her light.

Clarke nodded silently as Lexa rejoined them.

“Let’s get back to _Tondisi_ ,” Lexa said. “We have a war to win.”

“And people to rescue,” Lincoln replied.


	28. I Had a Little Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part of Resurrection. Some more interactions with Atohl, Indra, and Jackson.

* * *

As they returned to _Tondisi_ , a storm was brewing, blackening the skies and spitting angrily upon them. He was slightly ahead of the two leaders, giving them privacy to discuss the matters at hand and also because they were moving too slow. Octavia. He knew she wasn’t foolish enough to get shot, but she may have been unlucky enough. Octavia. He needed to see her again, to hold her in his arms and banish the Red thoughts that still lingered. Octavia.

The smell of charred wreckage had him picking up his speed. Octavia. Her pull on him was stronger than the Red’s. Octavia. He reached the edge of the crater, scouring the ruins for his warrior angel, his red heart threatening to burst from his chest in fear they had been too late.

Octavia. She was gazing up at him in wondrous elation. Octavia, his most precious sight to behold. She started running as he staggered down the embankment toward her, catching her with his good arm and lifting her close as she flung her arms around his neck, her breath expelling in an ecstatic sigh.

“Ah.” His eyes closed, his own breath taken away with his love for her. He set her back down to her feet, not letting her go as she plastered kisses over his lips, her hands cradling his face.

“You did it.” She rested her hands upon his chest as she smiled joyfully up at him.

“Yeah, I had a little help.” He turned as Clarke and Lexa arrived, standing high above the ruins, certain Octavia would be glad to see they were alive. He cupped her head with his right hand and tugged her against his chest, still not ready to let her go. His lips pressed to the top of her head and he held her close, inhaling her. Octavia.

Clarke’s attention was drawn behind them and Lincoln looked back to see Jackson helping Abby out of a tunnel made in the debris.

“Slow down. You’re bleeding. You need help, too,” Jackson said as he caught hold of Abby’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Abby replied just as the crowd of rescuers and wounded noticed their _Heda_ and began chanting for her.

Lexa waited until enough people’s attention had been drawn before raising her arm above her head, signaling for silence. “What happened here will not stand. The Mountain will fall,” she said resolutely. “The dead will be avenged!” she shouted as she thrust her arm up above her head again, causing everyone to erupt into cheers.

“Enough!” Abby’s voice rang out over the noise. “That’s enough!” The crowd fell silent. “There are still others in the wreckage. We heard them. Go to work!” Abby ordered the rescuers with all the authority signifying her position as a leader in her own right and the people willingly obeyed.

Octavia started leading him to the tunnel they had dug out of the rubble. She paused, turning back to him with a smile. “I got the other Seconds to follow me to help clear out the rocks.”

He smiled back at her and suddenly, Octavia’s hands were on his cheeks as she noticed his pasty pallor and that not all the moisture on his face was from the rain.

“You’re sweaty,” she said as she placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Feverish.”

Lincoln gave another weak smile. “I got shot.” He didn’t want her to worry so he didn’t mention that it was the Red leaching out from his system.

She shook her head at him with a frown, knowing the truth. “You don’t have to lie to me, Lincoln.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, turned around again, and headed back into the tunnel. He followed after her, certain she was mad at him and wanting to apologize.

“Atohl!” She called out for the _Azgeda_ Second, stopping just inside the tunnel. “Hey, I’m gonna go check on Indra. You okay to take over from here?”

Atohl eyed Lincoln cautiously but nodded. “My Chief is still down here somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Octavia said before turning around again and running into Lincoln, not realizing he had followed her. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized badly.

She nodded. “Come on.” She led him over to Indra who was back on her feet, Nyko having just left her side.

“You’ve done well, Octavia of the Sky People,” Indra said without acknowledging Lincoln’s presence. “Today you saved lives. Tomorrow you’ll take them.” Octavia stood a little straighter at that pronouncement. “Now get my gear. We leave with the Commander.”

Octavia moved away, her eyes briefly touching upon his. Lincoln remained behind, silently willing Indra to at least accept him in some way after saving her life. She still wouldn’t look at him so he turned away, her disavowal of him tearing at his sad, red heart.

“Wait.”

He paused, his red heart quickening as he wondered if he was hearing things. He turned back around slowly to find her eyes upon him. She extended her right arm out to him, a heavy sigh escaping as her shoulders relaxed their tension. Indra was forgiving him. Indra. He reached out and grasped her forearm as she grasped his. Indra. She drew him in close, her cheek to his cheek, her left hand on his shoulder. Indra. Lincoln’s eyes closed as the tumultuous wailing of his heart was soothed as if by a mother’s touch. Indra.

“Will you fight with us?” Indra asked him.

Unable to speak around the knot of tears welled up in his throat, he nodded against her cheek.

Indra glanced behind him as Octavia approached with her gear. “You chose well,” she said before breaking their hug to walk toward Octavia.

The corner of Lincoln’s mouth rose in a smile as Octavia helped Indra dress in her outer gear, the irony not lost. He had chosen Octavia over his own people. Octavia caught him smiling at her and ducked her head from Indra’s penetrating eyes as she gave him a coy grin back. Octavia. He had chosen to get back up and fight the Red for her. With her. Together. 

Jackson passed by them to help another wounded survivor, drawing Octavia’s attention. “Lincoln needs to get his wound checked out really quick,” Octavia said to Indra.

Indra nodded and Octavia dragged him over to where Jackson had knelt down by a young _Trikru_ to instruct her on how to bandage a wound. “Jackson, Lincoln got shot. Would you mind taking a look before we leave with the Commander?”

Jackson stood up, placing his hand on the _Trikru_ ’s shoulder in encouragement before walking over to Lincoln.

Lincoln pulled down the collar of his undershirt, exposing the entry wound on his left shoulder. “Clarke already took care of it after she shot me,” he said as Jackson began inspecting Clarke’s work, both front and back.

“ _She’s_ the one who shot you?!” Octavia stared at him in open-mouthed shock.

He refused to look at her. He hadn’t meant to let that slip just yet. “She killed the sniper.” Octavia was very passionate and sometimes it was better to ease her into unpleasantness.

“She did a good job,” Jackson said as he took out a pen from his coat pocket. It had a light on the end of it and Jackson flashed it across Lincoln’s eyes several times, causing his pupils to dilate uncomfortably. Jackson turned away and bent over his medical bag, digging through it.

“Lincoln….”

“Octavia, can we please do this later?”

Her jaw clenched but she nodded.

Jackson stood back up again and shoved Lincoln’s sleeve up before poking him in the arm with a syringe. “For infection,” Jackson explained. He then held out his closed fist to Octavia, dropping something into her outstretched palm. “For the other.”

“Octavia!” Indra called out to her, motioning to her it was time to go.

“Thanks, Jackson,” Octavia said as she hurried after Indra.

Jackson grabbed Lincoln’s hand, stalling him. “You’ll be okay but you’re gonna feel like crap.”

Lincoln nodded. He was already feeling like crap. “Thank you, Jackson.” He squeezed Jackson’s hand before following after Octavia again as they began their march on the Mountain. He had made it out of the Red fortress; he had made it out twice, and now he was returning to its hellish embrace to bring the Mountain down once and for all.


	29. We Fight This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between Resurrection and Bodyguard of Lies. Drug withdrawal warning.

* * *

An hour outside of _Tondisi_ , the rain finally lifted and the sun came out, beating down on their backs. The Commander halted her procession of warriors. Lincoln and Indra weren’t the only ones injured so their _Heda_ decided to split them up into two convoys to get the able-bodied into position faster. As Lincoln and Indra were regrouped into the slower cavalcade, it gave them a bit of time to recuperate before they started moving again.

Octavia assisted Indra first, helping her remove her armor and checking her wounds and bandages. Lincoln held back, his stomach was cramping with emptiness, the acidity swirling around and making his vision blur. As he waited for it to settle, Octavia came over to his side with a water container.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him as he gulped thirstily, trying to wash away the bitter burn.

“Awful.” He wasn’t going to lie to her again. “What did Jackson give you?”

“Pre-filled syringes in case you have a seizure.”

But nothing for the other symptoms. He wasn’t going to make it much longer without everyone noticing he was going through withdrawal again. He concentrated on the tip of Octavia’s nose, breathing through the vertigo and trembling, willing it to pass without him losing consciousness or vomiting up the water he just foolishly drank. She took his hand in hers, grounding him and pulling him back from the brink. He let out a shuddery exhale.

“I need to get out of here,” he whispered to her. He took another breath along with a tentative step forward. He was still shaky and feeling weak but it was over for now. He walked over to Indra’s side.

“You look terrible,” Indra said by way of greeting.

“So do you,” he replied.

Indra graced him with one of her beautiful, rare smiles.

“I need to go back to my cave to grab my battle gear,” he said. It was the best excuse he was able to come up with. “It’s on the way and I’ll meet back up by the time everyone gathers at the base of Mountain.”

“We’ll be there by sundown tomorrow,” she replied.

Lincoln nodded.

“I expect you want Octavia to go with you.”

He did but he wasn’t about to ask.

“Octavia,” Indra called out. Octavia rushed to her side. “I’m sending you with Lincoln to get his gear.”

Octavia nodded a little overeagerly.

“Caris can take over until then,” Indra said, nodding to the _Sankru_ Second.

Caris looked up from inspecting her torn knuckles and blistered palms. She grimaced her agreement as she adjusted the sling for her shoulder, having dislocated it in the digging out of survivors.

After saying their farewells to Indra, Lincoln didn’t waste time getting them away, the fever and chills already coming back. Once they were far enough from the group, he collapsed against a tree, breathing heavily, red sweating profusely, and feeling as if his red heart were about to explode out of his chest. He bent over at the waist, his vision going red.

Octavia rubbed his back, not saying anything, waiting until his body was under control again.

“Thanks,” he whispered as he straightened back up, still leaning against the tree trunk because his legs weren’t ready to fully support him yet.

“How come Indra let me go with you?”

He looked away in embarrassment. “Spouses are often given special privileges. It’s how we have so many children.”

“She considers you my spouse?”

He peeked a glance at her and saw her grinning.

“Well, let’s get going then, Husband.” She laughed as she took his hand in hers, gently tugging him away from the tree.

“ _Houmon_ ,” he said as they started walking in the direction of his cave. “It means ‘spouse.’”

“ _Houmon_ ,” she repeated, testing it out on her tongue. “I like that.” She smiled.

They walked for a while in silence, his palm overly warm and moist in her hand but he wasn’t letting it go. They reached the top of a hill, the smoggy cloud hovering over _Tondisi_ visible on the horizon.

"I saw more of your village than I ever saw of the Ark and now it's gone,” she said mournfully.

"We will rebuild.” He brought her hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it. “We always do."

“I want to be a part of that.”

Lincoln squeezed her hand, unable to speak. He hoped to be a part of it, too.

* * *

As they drew nearer to his cave, the more often they had to stop. She had taken to bathing his face with a cool rag while he hunched over, breathing through the riotous departure of the Red from his system. By early afternoon, his muscles were jelly and his temperature was high enough he was slightly delusional. His last proper shower had been back at Camp Jaha and now all he was able to imagine was the cool water of his pond sluicing over his fevered skin. He kept stumbling on, the thought of finally being able to wash the red stink off moving him forward.

He detoured them toward the pond, pausing only long enough to remove his shoes and weapons before wading in, still wearing his shirt and pants. “Ahh!” He sank in up to his neck, his eyes falling closed in relief as his heated skin immediately cooled. He ducked his head under, holding his breath as long as possible, the water caressing his burning cheeks and fiery scalp.

He came back up to find Octavia had joined him, also still dressed in her tank top and pants, a worried look on her face. “You were under for a long time and I was debating whether or not to save you.”

He gave a short laugh. “I figured our clothes could use a wash,” he said jokingly. His teeth started chattering.

She led him to the shallows and helped him strip off his clothes leaving him in only his undershorts. She set their clothing out to dry just as the fever started back up. He slid down, lying flat as he submerged his body in the shallows, closing his eyes and hating the seesaw he was on, no one to red blame but himself. His eyes opened when she took him into her arms, cradling his head in her lap and pouring water over his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, ashamed for making her go through this a second time with him.

She dismissed his apology. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

“Thank you.” For not condemning him for his failure, for being there for him, for loving him.

She gently stroked the top of his head, gazing down at him wistfully. “My mom used to tell us that we could survive anything as long as we were together,” she said before glancing away and toward the center of the pond where the wind rippled the waters into minuscule waves. “I know what it’s like to be all alone during the worst moment of your life.” She looked back down at him again, tears in her eyes. “I’m not going to let you feel that way.”

She kissed him tenderly and he closed his eyes again, peace settling into his soul as the last of the Red slowly drained away.


	30. That's Why I'm Here*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.

 

* * *

The worst part about falling asleep was waking up because it always involved the same nightmare, one that had twice come true for him under the influence of the Red. He had killed Octavia again. He gasped and gulped, trying to drag air into his burning lungs.

“You’re okay. I got you.” She held him in her arms, rocking him.

“Octavia.” He reached up, clinging to her shoulder, unsure if she were an illusion or if he were still dreaming.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” Her fingertips caressed his cheek. “You fell asleep.”

She continued rocking him and soothing him with her touch as he tried to get his bearings again. They were laying in the grass beside his pond still, the sun hanging low in the sky. “How long was I asleep for?”

“Not long enough. When was the last time you slept?”

“A day or two.” Maybe three. It had been after he had fed his Red Hunger. His stomach growled.

She frowned as her hand moved down his chest and over his belly. “You also need to eat.”

He was all of a sudden aware of the placement of her hand, of him in his underwear and her in her panties and tank top. Her breath caught, drawing his gaze to her face, to her hooded eyes and her blushing cheeks. Her mouth parted and her tongue flickered across her lips, her desire always so in sync with his.

She tore her eyes away from his and looked toward the setting sun. “Well, it’s probably gonna get cold soon and I’m hungry.” She looked back down at him. “Do you think we have time for one more swim?”

He recognized that glint in her eye, that mischievous curl to her lip. His mouth creased into a smile and that was all the permission she needed before she eased his head off her lap to stand up and strip down to nothing, dropping her panties in his face. He groaned.

She waded into the water and he quickly followed, kicking off his undershorts and diving in. He caught her about the waist, tugging her back against him, cupping her breasts as his teeth nibbled at her ear.

She turned in his arms, her hand wrapping around his cock as her legs enveloped his waist. She guided him to her entrance, rolling her hips forward and sinking down on him. Her lips parted in a moan of satisfaction, her head lolling back as he filled her. His thrusts were shallow, the rhythm of their bodies providing its own special friction in the water. His mouth opened against her neck, sucking and biting as she clung to his ears.

They're fucking; that's what she likes to call it. Fast and hard and brutal, their bodies desperate, their hips matching the frenetic pace of their heartbeats. A race to the finish line, each one trying to make the other lose control first. His fingers found her clit and her muscles clamped down around him as she began whimpering. He always wins the first time.

He continued the pressure of his fingers as he took her breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling over her nipple, his teeth grazing her areola. Her walls were throbbing and pulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out his name over and over, speaking whole sentences with just one word. His fingers increased their pace as he pumped into her, urging her on so he could follow her.

Then it was only this moment; when it was just the two of them, when they were connected so intimately, when he was buried deep inside her, plunging to go even deeper, to become a part of her, to dissolve inside of her love. This moment. Joined together. Together.

* * *

His left shoulder ached, the healing of the Red no longer at work, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it because it would remind her that Clarke had shot him. They still hadn’t gone back to his cave. He was dreading it because the last time he had been there was when he stumbled on Finn tearing the place apart looking for medicine for Raven. He didn’t want to think about Clarke or Finn or Raven; he only wanted to think about Octavia right now.

Lincoln started the fire but Octavia did the rest of the work for their supper. She served him up the cooked rabbit she had caught and he tried not to dwell too long on how overcooked it tasted to him, how he still preferred it fresh and raw.

She sat down beside him, shoving herself under his right arm and snuggling against his side, forcing him to eat with his left hand. Every movement up to his mouth brought a sharp twinge shooting from his shoulder to his fingertips. She soon caught on, her eyes guarded as she watched him, waiting for him to say something. He wasn’t going to bring it up first.

She sighed. “Stop being so stubborn,” she muttered to him as she scooted away so he could resume eating with his good arm again.

He snorted. She was stubborn enough for both of them. “It was worth the pain to hold you.”

She smiled at him with those bright, adoring eyes that always made him smile back. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to do more to her than kiss her. Her breath hitched under his heady gaze, her lips parting invitingly.

He licked his lips even as he stood up. “We should get going to my cave.” Otherwise, he was going to make love to her right here, which was decidedly not a bad idea.

* * *

His cave was a disaster and once again, he was fairly useless. He tried to help her clean until she complained he was moving too slow and demanded he get out of her way and rest. He took a seat at his table and she brought him water and fussed over him, making sure he was okay before resuming her tidying up.

His heart warmed at the domesticity of it all. He had never been one to think about the future until her. She made him hope and dream. She made him imagine what it would be like, the two of them living together. She made him wish they lived long enough to have children together, to raise them. He wanted to see her hair turning grey, her laugh lines turning into wrinkles. He wanted forever with her.

She swiped her hands together. “All done,” she said proudly before striding over to where he sat. “Now, let me take a look at where Clarke shot you.”

“It’s just a–.”

“Don’t you even dare say it’s a scratch.” She interrupted him, frowning as she removed his shirt.

He reached up to her face with his right hand, rubbing his thumb on the crease lines in between her brows.

She moved her head away in irritation. “What the hell is wrong with her? She could have killed you!"

"But she didn't." He didn’t want her mad at Clarke. Clarke had told him he was one of her people and that meant so much to him right now when he felt so worthless.

"She couldn't know that! She'd never used a gun before until a few weeks ago!"

“You shot me.” It wasn’t the same but it might help her be more understanding. She still kept frowning so he tried a different approach. "You'd never used a sword before, either."

She opened her mouth to argue but then snapped it shut again, an irate twitch above her eye. She didn't like it but she was letting it go for now. She finished inspecting his wounds and stepped away but he grabbed her hand and drew her into his lap, not wanting her to be cross any longer. He hugged her around her waist with her back to his chest as he tucked his nose behind her ear, inhaling her.

She wriggled against him, instantly bringing his arousal to her attention. She stilled and straightened up with a thought. “Can we have sex like this?”

He nipped at her exposed shoulder. “I don’t see why not.”

She climbed off his lap and tossed off her shirt. “Remove your pants,” she ordered.

He had barely finished obeying before she was strutting toward him, completely naked. His breath caught in his throat and he stood there, frozen in awe. She placed her hand on his chest and lightly shoved him back, the chair catching his knees so he was seated again.

She sat crosswise on his lap, one hand on his neck drawing him in for a kiss, the other hand traveling down from his chest to encircle his cock. He grasped her thigh, squeezing it as he moaned into her mouth. Her hand worked up and down on his member as her tongue stroked and tangled with his. He slid his hand up her thigh, pushing it between her legs, finding her nub with his fingertip. Her leg fell open, slipping off his lap as he deepened his touch.

“Turn around,” he whispered into her lips. He helped her shift her legs open so they dangled on either side of his, his hand still firmly entrenched between her thighs as his fingers plowed her folds. She leaned back against him, trapping his arousal between them as her hips reacted to his penetrating fingers. She tilted her head back, her arm reaching behind her to bring his mouth to hers again. He kissed her as his fingers found her g-spot, sending her shivering and shaking into orgasm.

He lifted her, adjusting her, then dropped her over his shaft. She cried out as he entered her, her body rippling and gripping around him. He pulled her back against him, his hand covering her breast, his fingers pinching her nipple. His other hand pressed into her clit, rubbing her how he knew she liked to be rubbed. She was mewling now, her hands holding tight over his wrists as her sheath held tight around his rod.

He licked at her neck, looking down her naked body, his rough hands in stark contrast to her silky skin. He twisted her nipple as he moaned into her neck, biting her where he had licked her before, his fingers grinding down on her clit. She screamed, coming on his cock, her juices dribbling down onto him, taking away the last of his control. He grunted, moving his hands to her hips as he slammed her back against him, thrusting up into her, pinning her to him till he shattered inside her, her name a shout torn from his soul.


	31. If We Make It Through*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

* * *

They had moved over to his furs at some point. He lay on his back with her in her favorite position snuggled into his side, her head on his chest and her hand over his heart. His fingers idly toyed with her hair, fixing and redoing some of her braids that had come loose, unable to fall asleep just yet, scared of the nightmares that might return.

“Why did she shoot you?” Octavia asked, letting him know she wasn’t ready to let it go yet.

“To kill the sniper.”

“How did that kill the sniper?”

“Because he was standing behind me.” He blew out a sigh. “I screwed up. I told her to let the sniper kill me but instead she figured out a way to keep me alive and kill the sniper.”

“You told her to let him kill you?” Her voice was quiet with rage.

“If it meant keeping you alive.”

"How many times do I have to remind you?” she asked with feigned exasperation. “I saved your life so you’re not allowed to waste it." Her fingers drew a heart over his heart.

“Look, Octavia. You're just gonna have to let me die for you because it'll be pointless if you die before me.” He squeezed her tighter, not even wanting to contemplate that happening. “I'll just end up dying from grief anyway.”

She remained silent as her fingers dipped over to the older arrow wound beneath the newer gunshot wound and she traced the scarred remnants of that fateful day on the bridge. “You’ve been hurt so much because of me. Why’d you even save me?”

“Because you were hurt.” She poked him in his chest, letting him know that wasn’t enough of an answer. “I have a tendency to rescue injured creatures.” He smiled fondly. “Anya used to call you my pet.”

She shifted, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him inquisitively. “What kinds of creatures? Like the ones in your drawings?”

“Yeah. There’s a skunk family I used to keep track of after I saved the mama skunk one time when she hurt her leg. Kinda like you.” He remembered sketching them the day her ship came down. “So are we ever gonna talk about all _your_ new injuries?” he asked as his finger traced delicately over the healing gash on her cheek.

She giggled her adorable giggle at him. “You told me to train with Indra so I did. It’s how I got her to make me her Second.”

He closed his eyes in horror at the thought of her training with warriors who wouldn’t hold back with her like he had. “At least you’re healing well.” He would make sure if she ever participated in any future sparring sessions, he wasn’t around to see it, otherwise he’d stop her and that wasn’t his place.

“One of the perks of being a Sky Person,” she said humorously as her hand moved away from his chest and up to his frowning face. She used her thumb to try to pull a smile out of his mouth and he playfully nipped at it. “Can we come back, Lincoln?”

He looked at her confused.

“After we bring everyone home from the Mountain. Can we come and live here?”

He wasn’t able to speak; his mouth opened but he had no words, only love. He rolled her over onto her back and kissed her instead, leaving her just as breathless as she made him.

“We’ll probably live in _Tondisi_ ,” he finally said. “At least until you’re done training under Indra.”

She smiled in approval, her fingertip running down the broken line of his nose and to the center of his lips. He gave it a peck. “What about your brother?” he asked.

“Can he come, too?”

Lincoln threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, if he wants.” Bellamy was smart and formidable and he had a lot to offer. He would be a very valuable member of their clan. He smiled down at Octavia. She had him dreaming of the future again.

She brought her hand up to his cheek and he kissed her roughened palm, the callouses new since the last time they were in his cave. His lips trailed down to the inside of her wrist, lightly sucking the soft skin before continuing on to the scar on her arm from when she first saved his life, his mouth soft and loving.

“Oh, Lincoln.” She sighed as she ran her fingers along his Mohawk, tickling his scalp and sending little prickles of lust straight to his groin.

He trailed kisses along her shoulder and across her neck, nudging her chin up with his head. Her hands slid up and down his back, pausing to dig in with her fingers every time he found a spot she particularly liked. She was beginning to squirm beneath him, always so impatient. He pushed himself up, hovering over her and losing himself in her passionate gaze.

He bent closer and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth gently biting before he captured her mouth in his, tasting her sweetness and making her moan. She shifted, either trying to get him on top of her or her underneath him. He let go of her mouth.

“So impatient,” he said with a smile.

She frowned back so he kissed her again until she was smiling and then he continued his exploration of her body. There were a plethora of new cuts and bruises in the few days they had been apart and he kissed every single one of them. He paused at her rib cage, his tongue lapping at the slight under-swell of her breast.

“Linco–.” He caught her nipple between his lips. “Oh!”

He suckled and tugged as his hand found her other nipple and he scraped his nail across it before squeezing it between his fingers. She was starting to sob with pleasure, writhing beneath him, frustrated and impatient. So impatient. He let go of her nipple with his mouth, moving down between her legs. He looked up at her and she was watching him, excitedly waiting.

His eyes never leaving hers, he kissed the top of her mound, right above where her clitoris was hidden away, crying for his touch. Her musky smell so potent and enticing, his tongue flickered out for a taste. She began whimpering, her head falling back as her hands gripped tightly to the furs beneath her.

He bent his head down, dragging his tongue from the base of her slit to the top before prodding at her nub. She cried. He glided his fingers along her folds making them weep as his tongue followed after, delving inside and drinking her juices. She was helplessly consumed by desire, crying out over and over. He moved his mouth back up to her clit and sucked as he plunged two fingers inside, her muscles gripping tight as she screamed.

He twisted his fingers inside her, his tongue tapping and rubbing at her clit. Her hips bucked into his mouth as her hands grabbed his head, burying him further in her essence. He moaned as her thighs clamped over his ears and she whimpered and cried, riding out her climax on his tongue, her honeyed nectar flowing into his mouth, intoxicating. The most heavenly taste of Octavia.

He rose up above her, powerless to hold back his own unbearable need for her any longer. Her legs lifted around his waist as she arched her hips up to meet him and he slipped into her easily, groaning as her warm wetness surrounded him. He cradled her face in his hands, savoring this moment of the two of them joined together.

She leaned up to kiss him, to taste herself on his lips, and he began to move inside her, mimicking with his tongue the thrusting of his cock. He moved slowly, working up to a faster pace as he slid his arms beneath her, pulling her up against his chest and hugging her close, their mouths capturing each other’s moans. Her hips slammed against his as he pounded into her, their bodies so close together, their skin stuck and suctioned. She turned her head away, resting it in the crook of his neck as she panted little high-pitched breaths of ecstasy. Her arms wrapped around his back, her ankles crossed above his buttocks, and her walls locked around his rod.

“Aaaah!” She cried out, her nails digging into his skin, her heels spurring him deeper. Her sheath quickened and swelled, milking his seed as he shouted his own release, their bodies trembling together in completion.

“I love you, Lincoln.”

“ _Ai hod yu in_ , Octavia.” He kissed her tenderly. “ _Ai hod yu in_.”


	32. You Know Our Ways*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their matching warpaint (and something else matching that I’ve never seen mentioned).  
> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to @allureofproductivity and her Fingerprints (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5098634), my all-time favorite warpaint scene that is better than anything I’d even dare to attempt here.

* * *

He woke up late the next morning, so exhausted the night before it had left little room for nightmares. Or maybe it was Octavia who had kept them at bay. She was still fast asleep, lightly snoring into his chest. He slipped out from under her, trying not to wake her. She muttered and rolled over, sprawling onto her back as her snoring grew louder. He smiled and dressed quickly, wanting to get back before she woke up.

He wasn’t gone long and returned to find her still sleeping, now on her stomach in the spot he had vacated, as if hugging his warmth left behind. He ran his finger down her cheek, making her mumble and burrow deeper. He placed his gift next to her so she would see it when she woke up and then went to work on putting together some ~~breakfast~~ lunch before gathering his weapons and battle gear.

Lincoln disdainfully eyed the garments. The scouting garb he once wore a distant memory; in its place was warrior armor he never thought he'd have to don again. He turned away from the offending clothes and began sharpening his blades instead, most of them long-unused since the last war with the _Azgeda_ ended.

“Lincoln.” Her tearful voice called out to him.

He laid down the blade he had been honing and turned around. She was sitting up and holding the flower to her face, crying into it. He hurried over to her, kneeling beside her. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset.” She sobbed. “I….” She threw her arms around him and began plastering his face with big, wet, slobbery kisses. And now she was laughing. “ _Ai hod yu in_ , Lincoln.”

“ _Ai hod yu in_.” He kissed her back, relieved they had been tears of happiness. “Now, get dressed and eat some food. We need to get moving or we’re gonna be late.”

He returned to sharpening his sword as she picked from the selection of nuts, berries, and cured meats he’d laid out for her from his winter stores. He noticed she avoided the nuts.

“They’re safe.”

She gave him a sardonic look. “I’d rather not chance it.”

He finished with the blade and sheathed the sword before picking up the matching one from where he had laid it earlier. He turned to Octavia and held one out to her.

"For you," he said simply.

Her mouth opened but no words came out. Instead, her eyes filled with more tears.

“They belonged to my parents.” He had kept them for sentimental reasons, never thinking he’d have a use for them. Not until Octavia.

She threw her arms around him again, sobbing into his chest. He awkwardly set the sword down on the table before hugging her back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry again.”

She gave a small laugh, pulling away from him. “It’s not that. It’s just….” She waved her hand, tears still streaming down her face.

“You just need a good cry.”

She nodded and he tugged her back into his arms, holding her and rocking her back and forth as she silently wept. He hated seeing her cry because it made him want to cry with her but he knew it was her way of dealing with all the tragedy that had been forced upon her inexperienced shoulders in such a short time. He was grateful to be able to console her in this small way after everything she had done for him. He ran his hands down her back, calming her and reassuring her until all her tears were spent.

She sniffled. “Thank you, Lincoln.”

“We’re in this together, Angel.” He placed a kiss on each salty cheek and then the tip of her runny nose. “ _Ai hod yu in_.” He would say it to her every day of his life as many times as he could.

“ _Ai hod yu in_.” She grinned and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him once more before stepping away. “I’d better get cleaned up.”

She walked over to his washbasin and he took a seat at his table, his pot of black face paint in front of him. He unscrewed the lid and scooped the paint onto his fingers before lifting it to his eye. He coated it on by touch, returning to an almost daily ritual he knew too well; one spike up, two spikes down.

He finished one eye and was about to start on the next when Octavia came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and taking the pot of black paint from his hand. She pecked a kiss on the cheek he hadn't yet painted.

"May I?"

He nodded, turning in his seat as she came around to the front of him, black paint already on the tips of her fingers. He wiped the paint from his hand as she copied the pattern onto his other eye, standing much too close and straddling his leg. She leaned in to his face, her breath tingling his lips, her touch purposefully intimate and sensual, leaving him aroused by the time she was done.

She handed him back the pot before kneeling in front of him, her hands on his lap and her head bowed. "Would you please do mine?" she asked, taking his breath away. “Indra said....." She started again. "I thought with the matching swords–.”

He lifted her chin up as he sank down from his chair in front of her, trapped in her gaze, her soul exposed to him and making his heart sputter to a stop. His thumb caressed over the pulse in her neck as he tilted her head up to meet his in a tender kiss, overcome by his love for her.

“Yes,” he said before his mouth settled on top of hers again, his tongue teasing between her lips, enticing hers out to mate.

She melted against him, her tongue following his back into his mouth. His hands moved down her back to the edge of her tank top, rolling it up her sides, their lips parting just long enough to get it over her head. His shirt soon followed.

Her hands rose to his bare shoulders, smearing black paint in with the black ink of his tattoos, her lips hard and demanding as her tongue rubbed against his. He groaned into her mouth. Her hands went to the front of his trousers, working to get them off.

He guided her to her feet, removing her belt and undoing her pants as she shoved his pants over his hips. Their kisses were clumsy and off-centered, leaving her giggling. He walked her backward to his cave wall, her hands touching him everywhere, stoking his desire further. He growled as he pressed her back against the wall and he ran his mouth down her body, his love flowing into every kiss until she was whimpering from every touch.

He returned to her mouth, kissing her endlessly as he lifted her legs around his waist and positioned himself at her entrance. She tightened her legs around him, rising up to meet him, impaling herself on him, crying out his name. He braced himself against the cave wall as he thrust into her over and over, their impassioned moans echoing through the cave. He kissed and licked his way to her neck, sucking and biting at her pulse, his fingers finding her clit as she whimpered.

“Please!” She begged him.

He moved his mouth down over her breast, his tongue lathing her nipple. Her cries of pleasure were growing louder and closer together the faster he slammed into her, hitting her in the right spot every time. He felt her tensing against him and he drove into her harder, forcing her to orgasm as her heat surrounded him. She screamed his name. He followed her seconds after, grunting out his own release into her bosom, their heartbeats pounding in unison.

He grinned possessively when he stepped away and saw her naked, quivering body. His face had left a trail of black paint in its wake. Her smile mirrored his and he looked down, seeing her hands had left their own black brand over his skin. He hauled her close for another quick kiss before they hurriedly dressed.

His hands were shaking as he painted her face, making the simple task take much longer as he matched her eyes to his. Her hand also dipped back into the pot and she swiped some more of the black onto her fingertips to fix his own makeup.

“The first time I ever saw you, you were wearing this,” she said as she touched up his right side.

“I remember.” He smiled sadly. “When you woke up, I was gonna leave you there to find your own way back but then I saw your knee.”

“Do you ever regret it?” She asked as she moved over to his left cheek and dabbed some more paint on it before wiping her hands off on a rag.

“No,” he said without hesitation. Saving her had thrown his whole life inside out and the last few weeks had been by far the worst he’d ever experienced. But they had also been the best. This moment alone was worth all the suffering combined. All their past moments, any future moments; Octavia would always be worth it.

He finished the last bottom point on her cheek, completing the marking, and leaned back to inspect his work. Seeing his pattern on her face made his heart painfully swell to bursting. The love he felt for her when they had first met was childish, romantic infatuation. The love he felt for her now was all-consuming, eternal love, forged from fighting together against the nastiest demons this horrible world threw at them.

“ _Ai hod yu in_.”

“ _Ai hod yu in…Houmon_ ,” Octavia whispered back.


	33. If People Found Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bodyguard of Lies

 

* * *

“Come on!” Lincoln stopped running as he called out to Octavia who was lagging behind again. “We’re gonna be late.”

“We wouldn’t be late if it wasn’t for you.” Octavia grinned as she caught up to him.

“That was a warm-up.” He winked.

He took off running again, his pace slower from his usual sprint so Octavia’s shorter legs could keep up with him in the uneven terrain. He led her through the forest, guiding her over streams and brooks, trying not to remember the last time he had been on this journey with her brother.

Octavia soon called for another break. He circled back around to her, passing her his water flask.

She sat down on a boulder and sighed heavily. “You forget; I’m still not used to earth’s gravity…or oxygen levels.”

He snorted. “Is that what you’re going to blame? I thought it was just because you’re so puny.”

She gaped at him then sprang to her feet, lunging at him. He took off running again, laughing as she chased after him. It was stolen moments like these that made all the misery not matter.

The next time they stopped, the conversation wasn’t as pleasant.

“I still can’t believe she shot you.” She brought up Clarke, once again.

He rolled his eyes. “Octavia, look–.”

“You want to know what my real problem is?” Her hands went to her hips, her elbows sticking out.

“Yes,” he said more vehemently than he intended.

“It just doesn’t make sense. How’d they escape? They went into that building.”

Even though he had briefly thought it when he had first spotted Clarke and Lexa, he didn’t want to believe what she was insinuating because that would mean Clarke had left Octavia to die. “You were with me for a while. Maybe Clarke came to take Lexa somewhere so they left again.”

“I saw Clarke in _Tondisi_ and something was wrong.” She shook her head slowly, her lips pressed in a frown of disagreement. “I think she knew.”

“What good will come of this line of thinking?” He cupped her face in his hands, looking at her tenderly, trying to soften her fury, trying to dissuade her. “Either you falsely accuse Clarke and Lexa of an act they didn’t commit or everyone finds out they are capable of such an act.” Her brow was still furrowed disapprovingly. “No winners and the alliance fails.” He was worried she might get herself in trouble. “And you end up dead.”

“But all those people killed, Lincoln. What about them?”

He looked away. “Casualties of war,” he said unwillingly. “They still won’t get justice until the Mountain Men are dead and the only way to do that is through the alliance.” He looked back at her. “Come on, we gotta keep moving.” He started off toward the Mountain again, not waiting to see if she followed.

* * *

As they drew nearer to the encampment, they slowed their pace. It wasn’t yet sundown so they still had time and there was no need to alarm the warriors on watch. He smiled proudly as he took her hand in his. She blended right in. Well, except for the wide-eyed, slack-jawed look of awe on her face.

“There’s so many people,” she whispered.

“Over three thousand warriors.”

“I thought there were a lot of people at _Tondisi_ but I’ve never seen this many.” Her head swiveled around, trying to take it all in. “So many people.”

He squeezed her hand. “Nervous?” They were so different in how they were alike. He preferred to be alone and she had never known anything but being alone with only her mother and her brother.

“A little,” his brave angel admitted.

He squeezed her hand again. “Let’s go find Indra.”

They weaved their way through the encampment, everyone sectioned off into clan designated areas. Since the Commander was _Trikru_ , the _Trikru_ camp was where the _Heda kom Kongeda_ ’s tent was located. The _Trikru_ chiefs from the various villages each had their own sub camp and Lincoln spotted Indra’s a short distance from the Commander’s tent.

Indra stood up when she saw them approach, smiling in approval as she noticed their matching war paint. “Octavia, Caris can fill you in,” she said, referring to the _Sankru_ Second who had been assisting her. “Lincoln, come with me. We have much to discuss.”

He gave Octavia a quick peck goodbye and followed Indra into another tent that had been set up for the Chiefs and Unit Leaders to conduct business.

“The Commander wants you to lead a force into the Reaper tunnels beneath the Mountain.” She eyed him cautiously. “Is this something you can do?”

He shook his head and told her the truth. “I can’t go back there yet.” It was too soon.

“I didn’t think so,” Indra replied. “That’s why I already told her to let me lead the force.” She was astute enough Lincoln should have realized she had known he was high on Red in _Tondisi_ and that he had been going through withdrawals yesterday morning. “Octavia will go with you on a scouting mission of the Mountain. Show her the entrance to the mines and she will be my guide.”

“All right.” Lincoln paused. “Thank you, Indra." Not just for understanding his internal battle with the Red but also for sending Octavia with him yesterday when he had needed her most.

Indra gave him a brief smile. “Go tell Octavia. We meet with the Commander soon.”

* * *

Indra led Lincoln into the Commander’s tent. Chiefs and Unit leaders from various clans and villages were milling about in small pockets, discussing strategy and battle formations. They were called in to speak with Clarke and Lexa in designated groups, each one given an assignment and then sent on their way. It wasn’t peaceful by any means. Arguments continuously broke out and swords were drawn more often than not, making the night drag on and on.

All night long.

Lincoln was eventually called in to discuss his part in the battle with Clarke and the Commander. Indra joined him along with Koff, another _Trikru_ village chief who was just as ruthless as Indra.

“The plan is to sneak everyone out through the intake door.” Clarke spoke first as she pointed to an area on the war map. “In order to do that, we need a distraction at the main door.” Clarke pointed to another area.

“Lincoln, since you know the tunnels, I suggested you be the one to lead a force into them,” Lexa said. “Indra, however, thought you would be better suited joining Koff at the main door with us.”

“I agree.” Lincoln nodded, thankful for Indra’s previous intervention.

From there, the discussion devolved into strategy and timing as Clarke and Lexa revealed their planned four-pronged attack against the Mountain. By the time they finished, Lincoln’s eyes were watering from exhaustion (and a bit of boredom).

He finally left the Commander’s tent an hour before dawn, spotting Octavia still sitting by Indra’s campfire. She was in deep conversation with the _Sankru_ Second, Caris. He gave her a small wave and she smiled back.

“Hey, Lincoln,” Penn called out to him in greeting from a neighboring campfire. Lincoln made his way over to where Penn and Fio, Indra’s lieutenants, stood with several other _Trikru_ warriors.

“Welcome back, Brother.” Penn extended his arm and he and Lincoln embraced.

“Lincoln!” Fio smiled, offering his arm to Lincoln. “No hard feelings about your _Houmon_ , then?”

Octavia had never told Lincoln who had sparred with her, but Fio had just all but admitted it was him. Before Lincoln realized what he was doing, he yanked Fio in close and head-butted him flat on his back. Everyone fell silent, waiting to see how Fio would react as he lay there stunned.

Fio jumped to his feet, laughing. “Ah, Lincoln. It was worth it.” He held his hand out again. “She’s got a lot of fire, that one. She’ll make quite the warrior.”

Lincoln smiled back and took his arm again, this time hugging Fio close. “Thank you, my friend.”

Lincoln chatted with them for a while. Penn and Fio had been assigned to the Mountain’s dam and would be meeting up with some people from Camp Jaha. He had missed the camaraderie and after spending weeks being treated as a _Natrona_ , their ready acceptance of him again warmed his heart.

The purple and gold of dawn started streaking across the sky by the time he wished them well in battle and headed back to where he had last seen Octavia at Indra’s campfire. Except she wasn’t there.

“Where did Octavia go, Indra?”

“Clarke said she’s on watch. Wanted to know why I wasn’t with her.” Indra snorted.

“I thought she was supposed to come with me?”

“Me, too,” Indra said with a frown. “But Lexa put her on watch instead.”

Lincoln had a sick feeling in his stomach. “Where?”

“You can go get her.” Indra pointed south. “I’ll send someone else to replace her.”

Lincoln nodded and went to retrieve Octavia. At the edge of the camp, he passed by Clarke and one of Lexa’s bodyguards, Ryder, as they headed toward Lexa’s tent. Clarke nodded at him grimly, a heavy frown on her face. He soon found Octavia, watching the woods for signs of danger. This close to the Mountain, the biggest threat was the Reapers.

“Hey, ready to go scout the Mountain with me?” he asked as he sidled up next to her.

“They knew,” she whispered.

“Oh, no. Octavia….” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, the reason Lexa put her on watch now clearly evident to him.

She turned her face into his chest. “She let all those people die.”

Lincoln swallowed, having to finally accept that Clarke’s true reason for saving him was due to guilt. “A warrior does not mourn those he's lost till after the battle is won.”

“That’s what Indra told me.”

“Where do you think I learned it from?” He tugged her closer, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. “Now, let’s go. We don’t have much time anymore and I need to show you where the tunnel entrance is and go over my map with you.”

“You’re not coming?”

Lincoln shook his head. “I’m not ready.”

She turned, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him.  “That’s okay. That’s why you’ve got me to do it for you.”

He laughed. “Yes, I do have you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I increased the chapter count to 37. I might still finish this in 35 chapters depending on how long I make them, but then again, I might not.


	34. What He Can't Control*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Bodyguard of Lies.  
> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to go straight into Blood Must Have Blood, Part 1, but then I thought why not throw in one last chapter of pre-battle smut? Inspired by today’s Linctavia headcanon list (http://electricbluebutterflies.tumblr.com/post/133475408298/linctavia-fandom-headcanons).

 

* * *

He stood a distance away from the mine entrance, gazing into its yawning mouth, hypnotized by the Red pull he still felt so strongly even now. Octavia took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He tore his eyes away from the siren’s Red song and concentrated on Octavia, breathing through the fear that clenched around his chest, threatening to rob him of consciousness. Black spots floated across his vision. Red spots. Red fog. He was floating above himself, his head uncomfortably overinflated.

“Lincoln.” His name was an echo underwater. “Lincoln!”

He shook his head, disoriented and finding himself kneeling on the ground in front of Octavia. She was clutching his face, her eyes frantically searching his. She couldn’t have known the boulder she had yanked him behind was the same boulder he and Bellamy had crouched by while waiting for Reapers to get their Red.

“I’m….” His voice was raspy so he cleared his throat. “I’m okay.”

Her fingers stroked his cheek. “You had me worried.”

His eyes flooded with tears as the constriction around his chest moved across his heart. “How can you even forgive me? I betrayed your brother. I betrayed you.”

“Come here.” She pulled him into her arms, hugging him close. “Bellamy knew what he was getting into and you still got him farther than he probably would have gotten on his own.”

“You don’t understand. I traded him for the Red.”

“Listen, sometimes you just have to accept forgiveness even if you feel like you don’t deserve it.” She placed a kiss on his forehead. “We all make mistakes but the important thing is to keep fighting.”

His tiny, perfect warrior, giving him a pep talk.

She leaned her forehead against his. “Don’t give up on yourself and I won’t give up on you.” Her thumb brushed his cheek. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_.”

He nodded against her head, sucking in a raggedy breath. Octavia stood up slowly, guiding him to his feet.

“You okay?” she asked again.

He nodded again. “Do you have my journal?” Focus on the task at hand. Focus on Octavia. Focus on Indra and Nyko, Penn and Fio. Focus on Bellamy. Octavia.

She took out his journal and handed it to him. He flipped to the back pages, finding the map he had copied so carefully from a scrap of paper clutched in a dead Reaper’s fist. He found the makeshift pencil still stuffed in the spine and began tracing the route she was to take.

“Look for the light fixtures on the ceilings. Sometimes the lights aren’t on but either way, if the tunnel you’re in doesn’t have light fixtures, you’re in the wrong tunnel.” He corrected a mistake on the map, curving the line of the tunnel more. “They have a way of watching to see when the Reapers come so you can’t get too close to the door until you’re ready.”

He glanced over at her, her eyes intently fixed upon his hand as it moved across the paper. She wetted her lips. She was getting turned on by him drawing. Seriously?

“Octavia?”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “Sorry, I’ve seen all your drawings a million times and have them memorized but I’ve never seen you draw before.” She took his hand in hers, kissing the scar on the back of it where her brother had stabbed the spike through it. “I love your hands.” She made it sound erotic, especially when she sucked his finger into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it.

He quickly freed his hand, frowning indulgently at her even as his pants grew tighter. “As I was saying, they can see into the tunnel but only up to a certain point.” He made a marking on the tunnel that ended at the intake door. “There are mine carts here. Body dumps. Don’t go too far past them or they’ll see you.”

He fixed another couple of lines and darkened a couple of faded areas before tucking the pencil back in the spine and returning the journal to her. “Were you paying attention?”

“Yeah, yeah. Light fixtures, mine carts.”

“Octavia.” He took her face in his hands. “This is serious. Don’t make me worry.”

She kissed his palm. “You trust me, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“I’m not leaving Bellamy behind.”

"I know you won’t. And I'm not leaving you behind, my _houmon_." He kissed her tenderly. They headed back to camp, Octavia’s hand naturally slipping into his.

“You did good,” she said, sounding like him after she had mastered a particularly difficult move in training.

“Thanks, Angel.” He hauled her close to smack a kiss to the top of her head as they kept walking.

* * *

Her pace started to slow the closer they got to camp, as if she didn’t want to return. He finally spoke up once they were crawling along so slowly he was tripping over his own feet. “Octavia, why don’t you want to go back?”

“Because I don’t want to see Clarke. She left me to die.” She stopped walking entirely. “Oh, god! What would that have done to Bellamy?”

Bellamy? Hell, Lincoln was absolutely certain he would have permanently gone full-blown Reaper if she had died. She was waiting for a response from him so he recited one of Indra’s sayings that had been on repeat in his head. “A warrior doesn't worry about what he can't control.”

She sighed heavily and then she tackled him, her hands cupping his face as she crushed her mouth to his, knocking him breathless.

“Fuck me, Lincoln.”

He groaned, shoving her back against a tree, one hand pushing up under her shirt, the other diving down below her waistband. His mouth covered hers, their teeth clinking as she opened up under his onslaught, whining as his finger found her clit. She was already drenched.

There was a reason _houmons_ were given special privileges; it helped alleviate the pre-battle tension and less fighting would break out. He adjusted his hand farther down her pants, running two fingers along her lips, spreading them open. His other hand massaged her breast, her nipple poking hard into his palm as he squeezed. Her whimpers were coming faster and rising higher. He thrust his two fingers inside, immediately searching out that spot on her front wall.

“Aaaah!”

He found it. Her toes were barely touching the ground, her weight dispersed between the tree and his hand. Her muscles clamped around his fingers as he flexed the tips, rubbing her inside as his thumb rubbed above. He wondered if she realized she was crying.

Her body shuddered beneath his fingers, as her climax kept rolling, the pre-battle adrenalin rush sustaining her peak. They might die today.

He spun her around so she faced the tree, his hand still down the front of her pants, his fingers still stroking her. He grinded his arousal against her backside. “I could take you right here,” he whispered in her ear before capturing the lobe between his teeth.

“Yes.”

She unfastened her pants, shoving them along with her underwear down around her ankles, opening herself up wider to his hand still between her legs. He worked his trousers off with his other hand, stopping to caress her backside.

“Lincoln!” She bent over, bracing herself against the tree trunk in front of her as she rode his hand to another orgasm.

He waited until she was finished before removing his fingers. He pulled her buttocks against him, her wet lips already lapping at his rod. He moaned as he entered her, sobbing her name into her hair. Then it was basic, primitive, animalistic. Guttural grunts and growls, the sound of skin slapping skin, heavy pants, desperate cries.

The horns interrupted them, sounding the call to arms. Bellamy had shut down the yellow cloud.

“Don’t stop!” Octavia begged, her hips rocking back against him as he slammed into her over and over. Her arms encircled the trunk, her cheek pressed to it, her eyes closed tight as he pounded her harder. He reached his hand in front of her, searching for her nub, finding it even as he came. He continued thrusting into her, his fingers rolling and flicking her clit till she cried out and stiffened around him.

He was breathing heavy and his muscles were still weak as he stepped away from her, leaving her warm, wet embrace. She reached down for her pants, pulling them back up and fastening them before walking over to him to help him with his own pants, stirring his desire awake again.

His hand reached out and he brushed the tree bark off from where it had stuck to her cheek. “ _Ai hod yu in, Houmon_.”

She kissed him. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Ready to go back now?” he asked.

She had her combat visage back on as she replied, “we’ve got this.”

He took her hand in his. Even though they would soon be apart, they were in this together.


	35. Turned Us Into Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of Blood Must Have Blood, Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how long it takes to explain the plans in this episode! I was going to shortcut it and sum up but there’s no real good way to do that. The bad news is that means this chapter is mostly just Clarke talking. The good news is that means I’m adding more chapters and am aiming for 40 now.

 

* * *

Lincoln entered the Commander’s tent where the pre-battle briefing was to take place. As a Field Commander, he had been assigned troops under Clarke while Koff was leading under Lexa as they attacked the main door to the Mountain.

He hadn’t told Octavia that he was directly under Clarke’s command in this battle because she had been upset at Clarke enough as it was. His heart ached that Clarke had left Octavia to die but she had also saved him from Red failure, even if it was out of guilt. He knew he would follow Clarke’s command because they were after the same goal; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was, he didn’t think he could die for Clarke, especially not after _Tondisi_.

More people started to arrive, the tent filling quickly with field commanders and unit leaders. Lincoln stood behind and to the right of Clarke, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched them stream in and take positions around the large scale-model battle map. The Sky People from Camp Jaha were the last to arrive.

“Welcome _Skaikru_ ,” Lexa said in greeting as they filed into the tent. “Join us.” She gestured to an empty space off her left.

A man dressed as one of their guards approached Clarke with a metal cylinder. “Package from Raven,” he said. “Hydrazine. She said it would do the job.”

“Good,” Clarke replied.

“And, uh, your mother wanted to be here, too,” he said.

“I know, but the wounded in Tondc need her more.”

Lincoln swallowed back the bitter distaste at what happened in _Tondisi_ as the man turned and joined the rest of the Sky People.

“Field Commanders.” Lexa started the meeting. “Today’s the day we get our people back. The enemy thinks it’s safe behind its doors, but it’s not.”

Lincoln sighed. Not them, _it_. The same depersonalization used with the Reapers. He wondered if he had always been this jaded. Indra and Anya would say yes.

“When it realizes that, it will fight back…hard. We need to be ready.” Lexa turned, looking to Clarke to continue on where she left off.

“This is a rescue mission,” Clarke said. “We are not here to wipe them out. There are people inside that mountain that have helped us. Children who have nothing to do with this war. “

Clarke and Lexa apparently didn’t feel the same way about the Mountain Men. Lincoln wondered at Clarke’s sudden change in heart. After she had killed the sniper, she had admitted to him she wanted all the Mountain Men dead.

“We kill their soldiers, their leadership if we have to, but we are there to rescue our people. Is that clear?” Clarke waited for a response and the Field Commanders nodded their agreement. “Then let’s begin.”

Clarke walked over to the table that held the battle diagram Lincoln had helped build the night before while he waited for his orders. Except for the trees; he didn’t know who added the trees. Lincoln knew the Mountain better than anyone and had spent his time as a Scout mapping out the lay of the land so it was the least he could do. Besides, he’d been bored waiting for ages.

“There are four teams,” Clarke said. “Two of them, at the dam and in the mine, are moving into position already.”

Lincoln closed his eyes briefly in prayer to the ancestors to watch over his _houmon_ as she ventured into the dark underbelly of the Red beast.

“The third, inside the Mountain, is freeing the Grounder prisoners as we speak,” Clarke said, referring to Bellamy. “It is our job as the fourth team to keep the eyes of the enemy off of them for as long as possible. To do that, we have to be in position here.” Clarke rested her hand over the rounded scrap of metal Lincoln had pieced together. “At the main door with our entire army. The Mountain Men believe the door can’t be opened from the outside so they leave it unguarded. Only it can be, and thanks to our source on the inside, now we know how.

“The electromagnetic locking system has one flaw. When the power goes out, it disengages. That’s where Raven’s team comes in.” Clarke placed her hand on the scraps of leather Lincoln had used to represent the dam. “The Mountain’s electricity is generated at Philpot Dam. By now, they’ve taken the turbine room. It’s their job to blow the power. Once they do, we blow the lock.” She turned to speak directly to the Sky People. “There is a catch, a backup generator inside the Mountain. If the lock is still functioning when that backup power kicks in, we’ll never get that door open. We’ll never get our people back.”

“How much time do we have until the backup power kicks in?” It was the Sky Person who brought Raven’s package.

“One minute,” Clarke said. “That’s the window.”

“Small window,” he replied. “Why don’t we just take out the backup generator, too? Bellamy’s inside. Have him do it.”

“Leaving them without power that long would kill them all. And, as I said, that’s not the mission.” Clarke inhaled deeply. “Besides, we lost contact with Bellamy.”

“What? We did? When?” It was a Sky Girl Lincoln recognized as having come down with Octavia. Monroe, he thought Octavia had said her name was. She had been with Bellamy when they ~~attacked him in his cave~~ ~~rescued Octavia from him~~ interrupted Octavia saving herself and decided to take him hostage.

“After he took out the acid fog,” Clarke said.

“Bellamy’s a warrior,” Lexa spoke up. “He’ll be fine.”

Lincoln was dumbfounded at Lexa’s reassurance of Monroe’s concern for Bellamy before he caught the appreciative glance exchanged between Lexa and Clarke. Lexa cared for the young _Skaikru heda_ and didn’t want her to worry about Bellamy. Lincoln himself wasn’t worried about Bellamy; he had already stayed alive this long and the _Bleik-kru_ had tenacity running through their veins.

“As the Commander said, once the door is open, the shooting will start,” Clarke continued on, seemingly unfazed. “And they’ll throw everything they have at us. But that’s what we want. We want them looking at us. Because while we’re fighting at the front door, Indra’s team will be escorting the prisoners out the back, right through the Reaper tunnels.” As Clarke spoke, Lincoln said another silent prayer for Octavia and Indra and even Jackson who was with them. “Once all our people are free, they’ll sound the retreat. We’ll be back home before Mount Weather even knows they’re gone. And that’s it. That’s the plan.”

Everyone began muttering among themselves as Lexa stepped forward to take over from Clarke and rally the troops. “The Mountain has cast a shadow over these woods for too long. They’ve hunted us, controlled us, turned us into monsters.” She looked directly at Lincoln, acknowledging his Red struggle. “That ends today. Thanks to our alliance with the Sky People, the Mountain will fall,” she said emphatically. “As Clarke said, we spare the innocent. As for the guilty…. _Jus drein jus daun_.” She started the chant for blood.

“ _Jus drein jus daun_! _Jus drein jus daun_!” All the Field Commanders in the room began chanting with her.

Lincoln remained silent, a sick, nervous feeling settling into his stomach as he watched the blood-lust rising in correlation to the volume of their chanting. The Sky People quickly learned the words and followed suit. Even Clarke joined in as the chants grew louder, the warriors outside the tent carrying the call onward to the assembled troops. Lincoln shifted uneasily, that bitter distaste returning to his mouth as the roar mounted to a deafening pitch showing how easily crowds could be controlled.


	36. You Can Do This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Blood Must Have Blood, Part 1. Monroe and David Miller!

* * *

Clarke pulled Lincoln aside as they left the Commander’s tent after the briefing. “I need to talk to you.”

She led him to another tent. This one was empty. She stood there, watching him without speaking, looking for something, perhaps a tell. Lincoln remained impassive.

“I asked for you specifically because I know you can work with us,” she finally spoke. “I meant what I said, Lincoln. You are my people.”

He pursed his lips together, wanting to ask her how she could leave Octavia to die yet still call him her people but he remained silent, biting his tongue instead.

“Did Octavia talk to you?” she finally asked.

“Don’t worry. We won’t say anything.” If either of them did, it would mean their death sentence.

“I was protecting Bellamy.”

At the expense of Octavia’s life. He didn’t want to hear her excuses. “I’ll fight with you, Clarke. We both want our people out of that Mountain.”

“Maybe if you could talk to Octavia….”

The withering glare he shot her made her stop mid-sentence. He folded his arms over his chest, done with the discussion, done with her. He had started to consider her an ally and even a friend but after finding out about _Tondis_ i, he had lost all trust in her and that hurt him worse than he realized.

She sighed heavily, giving up for the moment. “I’ll send Monroe and Sergeant Miller in to work with you on getting that door open.”

She left and moments later, the tent flap moved as the fire-haired girl, Monroe, entered followed by Sergeant Miller, carrying Raven’s package in one hand and a tube of papers in the other.

“Clarke says to report to you?” Monroe asked.

Lincoln nodded. He was in charge of the task force assigned to get the door open.

“I’m Monroe and this is Sergeant Miller,” she said, gesturing behind her.

“Lincoln.”

“I just wanted to say….” She lowered her head, staring down at his feet. “I’m sorry for what we did to you before.”

Lincoln barely caught what she mumbled out. He could only assume she was talking about the torture they had inflicted on him. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what else to say but he appreciated her apology.

Monroe nodded back, finally looking him in the eyes. “I’m at you’re command, Sir.”

The corner of Lincoln’s mouth threatened to tug up into a smile, but he managed to hold it back. Instead, he led her and Sergeant Miller to the table in the middle of the tent, holding his hand out for the rolled up paper in Sergeant Miller’s hand. “Are these the drawings from Raven?”

“Yes,” Sergeant Miller said as he passed them to Lincoln. “The schematics she pulled up on the door.”

Lincoln spread them out on the table, inspecting the clock-like mechanisms and intricate gear work of the mechanical portion of a door that hadn’t been opened in ninety-seven years.

“What’s Raven’s plan for the door?” Lincoln asked.

Monroe pointed at a spot on the diagram. “I drill a hole here. Raven says this will get us close enough to the wires connecting the door to the backup generator.”

“Then I plant the hydrazine bomb,” Sergeant Miller set down the metal cylinder he had brought to Clarke. “We trigger the explosion to short circuit the whole thing before the generator kicks in and the door defaults to unlocked as a safeguard. After that, it’s simply a matter of prying it open.”

Lincoln eyed Raven’s bomb. “How does that work?”

“Hydrazine,” Sergeant Miller said. “Highly explosive.” He pointed out the wires and circuitry at the top. “This is the ignition source. Once the bomb is in place, I turn it on and we get back and wait for the electricity to turn off.” He pulled out a metal box. “This is the trigger. Press the button and…. _Boom!_ ”

Lincoln nodded. “Let’s start drilling, then.”

Monroe grinned widely and hurried out of the tent to begin her assignment while Sergeant Miller lingered. “My son is in there,” he finally said. “I think you met him.”

Lincoln at last made the connection to Miller, one of his captors, the one he had spent the most time with aside from Bellamy, the same one he had head-butted. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told about me.”

“Monroe and I had a long walk from Camp Jaha. I know what he did.”

Lincoln wondered if another misplaced apology was coming. Maybe he had been wrong about these Sky People and their heartlessness; they seemed more compassionate than his own people. But then he remembered what they had done to Octavia, what they had done to their own children, and his jaw clenched.

“It’s my fault. I was the one who arrested him. My own son.” Sergeant Miller shook his head. “I caught him stealing again and….” His eyes filled with tears. “What if I never get a chance to tell him I’m sorry?”

Lincoln reached out a hand to the man’s shoulder, squeezing it in comfort. “You’ll see him soon.”

Sergeant Miller shook his head. “After what I did, I don’t think he’ll want to see me again.”

“The important thing is to keep fighting,” he said, repeating what Octavia had told him. He clumsily patted the man on the back. “Let’s go get him.”

* * *

Lincoln stood behind Clarke, Lexa, and Sergeant Miller as Monroe maneuvered the drill into position in front of the colossal door sealing away the residents of Mount Weather from the rest of the world. The whirring sound of the motor was soon joined by the screech of metal grinding against metal as the drill dug into the door.

It was slow going. She had to stop often to lubricate the drill and even had to replace it a few times. The whole while, Lincoln scoured the surrounding areas and the ridge above the door looking for danger. Koff was in charge of the bulk of the forces and should already have an eye out but Monroe was Lincoln’s responsibility.

Monroe shut off the drill, extracting it from the door. Lincoln wondered if the drill had broken again.

“That should do it,” she said. “Bombs away.”

Two of the Sky People guard came up and removed the drill from in front of the door while Sergeant Miller stepped forward to place the hydrazine bomb. He looked quickly back at Lincoln, a defeated weariness across his face.

“Be careful,” Clarke said.

Lincoln stepped around Clarke and followed after Sergeant Miller.

“Archers, watch the trees,” Lexa ordered.

Lincoln backed his way up to the door, scanning for signs of imminent danger, the lack of retaliation from the Mountain Men for drilling into their door making him apprehensive. He glanced over at Sergeant Miller and noticed his hand shaking. He reached out, grabbing hold of his wrist.

“Hey.” He waited for Sergeant Miller to look up. “You can do this,” he said, once again sharing Octavia’s words.

Sergeant Miller looked around uncertainly. “What if we're too late?”

“What if we're not?” Lincoln leaned in close and whispered, “draw strength from your son.” As Lincoln drew strength from Octavia.

Sergeant Miller saw the truth in Lincoln’s own eyes. “This mountain has taken too much from both of us, hasn't it?”

Lincoln lowered his gaze before he gave an imperceptible nod, letting Sergeant Miller know he wasn’t the only one battling demons.

It seemed to help because Sergeant Miller returned to his duty and removed the bomb from its protective cylinder with a steady hand, the color of the hydrazine so similar to the Red drug that Lincoln thought it poetic. Sergeant Miller slipped the bomb into the hole Monroe had drilled, ensuring it was firmly seated. He pressed the button to arm it and they both stepped back out of range from the bomb. Now all they had to do was wait for the power to go out.


	37. The Mountain Will Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Middle part of Blood Must Have Blood, Part 1.

* * *

Dusk fell and the lights on either side of the colossal door remained on. Lincoln met once more with his warriors and Monroe and Sergeant Miller to go over the plan.

“Sergeant Miller, you make sure that bomb goes off within that minute,” Lincoln said. “Once the lock disengages, be prepared for enemy fire.” He looked around at his warriors, seeing his own pain and loss reflected back. Everyone had lost someone to the Mountain over these last fifty years. It was time to end it.

Gunfire echoed from a distance, reaching their ears. With dread, Lincoln was able to pinpoint the direction and rushed to Clarke’s side. “It’s coming from the dam.”

“They know we're going for the power,” Clarke said.

“They know we're going for the door,” Lexa replied somberly as Monroe and Sergeant Miller hurried up.

Lincoln called out to his warriors to get ready. At last, the Mountain Men were fighting back.

“Raven will get it done,” Monroe said to Lexa. “She's one of us.”

Sergeant Miller passed Clarke the trigger for the bomb. “As soon as those lights go off, you push that button.”

“We'll do the rest,” Lincoln said. His warriors were ready.

The lights on either side of the door flickered once and then went out.

“She did it,” Clarke said in relief.

“One minute starting now,” Sergeant Miller called out.

“For those we've lost.” Clarke held out the trigger to Lexa.

“And those we'll soon find,” Lexa replied as both _Hedas_ pressed the button.

Nothing happened. They pressed again and again yet the bomb didn’t go off.

“What's wrong?” Lexa asked as Clarke grabbed the trigger from her and continued to press the button. “Why isn't it working?”

“They're jamming us.” Clarke moved around from the protective barrier. “I have to get closer.” She aimed the trigger at the door just as gunfire broke out from above the ridge, aimed straight at Clarke.

“Clarke!” Dammit. Lincoln snatched her about the waist and dragged her back under the cover of the boulder.

“Forty-five seconds!” Sergeant Miller called out in warning.

Lexa shouted to the troops to flank the shooters as the gunfire continued, the warrior armor no match for the bullets.

Sergeant Miller crawled over beside them. “If I can get there, I can trigger it manually.”

“No,” Clarke replied, as bullets continued to ricochet around them. “You can't get there.”

“For Nate, I have to try.”

Lexa ordered more warriors to form a moving shield to take Sergeant Miller to the door. They rushed forward with their metal sheets in front of them and got into formation with Sergeant Miller tucked inside. They began moving forward as bullets rained down on them from the ridge up above.

“Thirty seconds!” Clarke called out.

One unlucky shot into a warrior’s unprotected leg caused the buffer tower to rapidly crumble, leaving a pile of shields and bodies lying feet from the door.

Lincoln came up with a clever idea that Octavia would be proud of. The Sky People were so reliant on their technology that they sometimes forgot the basics. Sergeant Miller had given him the idea when he said he could trigger it manually and now Lincoln only had seconds to do it. He grabbed a bow and an arrow off a dead warrior and wrapped a bit of cloth on the arrowhead.

“We'll find another way in.” Lexa tried to reassure Clarke.

“There is no other way in,” Clarke said hopelessly. “You know that.”

“We don't need one,” Lincoln said as he lit the cloth on the end of the arrow from a torch held out by one of his warriors.

“Ten seconds!” Clarke glanced at her stopwatch as Lincoln took a breath, steeling himself. He wasn’t an archer by trade but he was a damn good shot. “Five seconds!” He stepped out from behind the barrier. “Four…” Lincoln thought of Octavia, knowing he would most likely be gunned down. “Three….” He zoned in on only the door, only the trigger implanted in the door, ignoring the sound of gunshots as he released the arrow. “Two….”

An explosion as the arrow met the trigger. Lincoln ducked down behind the barrier with Clarke and Lexa, allowing himself to be aware of his body again as he mentally checked for gunshot wounds. He hadn’t been hit. He let out a heavy breath. He was still alive.

“Haha! It worked!” Clarke exclaimed.

“We need to get to that ridge and take out the shooters,” Lexa replied.

Lincoln started to move to gather his warriors with him to take down the Mountain Men on the ridge.

“No!” Lexa yanked Lincoln back. “You stay with Clarke. When the shooting stops, you get that door open.” Lexa turned to Lincoln’s warriors behind her. “ _Gyon au!_ ” she ordered them to go with her and took off to circle around to the top of the ridge and take out the shooters.

Now all they could do was wait again. Lincoln gestured to his strong men, the ones he assigned to prying the door open, getting them into position to be ready with the ropes.

They waited through sporadic shooting, mostly suppressive fire at this point since anyone who hadn’t found cover was already down. Eventually even that stopped.

Lincoln stepped out hesitantly, waiting for the gunfire to resume and pin him back down.

“Lincoln,” Clarke called out in warning.

“Lexa did it,” he said, straightening up. Clarke and Monroe stepped out from behind the boulder and still, there was no shooting.

“Clarke, look,” Monroe said, pointing to the metal pile in front of the door. There was movement. At least one of them was still alive.

“Make sure he’s okay,” Clarke said as Monroe rushed forward.

“Sergeant Miller!” Monroe said as she helped him to his feet. Lincoln was relieved the man still lived to be reunited with his son.

“They'll be waiting just inside the door,” Clarke told him.

“Good,” Lincoln said. The Mountain Men had killed too many warriors here today. _Jus drein jus daun._ He turned to his strong men. “ _Masta ai op!_ ” He ordered them to follow him to the door.

He directed them into two lines with their grappling hooks and ropes. From the drawings Raven had sent, Lincoln pointed them to the four points on the door that would allow them to force it open.

“Train your fire on the door.” Clarke motioned to the Sky People gunners.

Lincoln’s strong men got the hooks in the door. “Pull!” He shouted.

The strong men dug in, their bodies leaning back with their weight against the ropes. “Again!” He ordered. “Pull!” They pulled in unison. “Pull!”

The door creaked open.


	38. What Doesn't Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of Blood Must Have Blood, Part 1 and the start of Part 2. Introducing Emerson (“Lexa’s Mountain Man” since Lincoln never met him).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 100 Season Three is coming out January 21st!

* * *

“Attack now!” Clarke shouted.

“ _Chil yo daun!_ ” Lexa called out for everyone to stand down as she returned from the ridge. She led a tied-up Mountain Man behind her.

Clarke approached her. “What is this?”

“Hey, look!” Someone shouted. “They're coming out!”

Lincoln turned to the door, his eyes widening in disbelief as hunched over figures began trickling out from inside the Mountain. They were weak, malnourished, barely dressed, and shivering in the chilly autumn night. The Mountain Men’s hunger for their blood had been insatiable and now they were suddenly letting them go. 

“They're surrendering?” Clarke asked as the prisoners continued to make their way out.

“Not quite,” Lexa’s Mountain Man said.

More and more people streamed out from the opened door, hundreds of them. They were quickly absorbed into the crowd of warriors, reunited with their clansmen and taken away to safety. Lexa’s Mountain Man walked past Lincoln, freed by Lexa to return into the Mountain.

Lincoln walked over to Lexa’s and Clarke’s side. “What is this?” he asked.

“Your commander's made a deal,” Clarke replied.

“What about prisoners from the Ark?” Lincoln asked, terrified of the answer. The Mountain Men could only survive without the blood of his people if they used the Sky People instead.

“They'll all be killed,” Clarke said. “But you don't care about that, do you?”

“I do care, Clarke,” Lexa said firmly. “But I made this choice with my head and not my heart. The duty to protect my people comes first.”

Clarke took a step closer, begging. “Please don't do this.”

“I'm sorry, Clarke,” Lexa said.

Lincoln stepped forward. “Commander, not like this. Let us fight.” The Mountain had taken too much for too long for them to leave without a fight.

“No. The deal is done,” Lexa said just as the last of the prisoners were released and the giant door to Mount Weather was shut on the outside world once again. “ _Teik oso raunnes laud._ ” She ordered.

A warrior blew his horn, sounding for retreat. The warriors immediately obeyed, grumbling and wondering as they turned away and left, leaving behind the Sky People guards, looking perplexed and lost.

“You, too,” Lexa said to Lincoln directly, catching him looking to Clarke for guidance. “All our people withdraw. Those are the terms.”

“They’ll be slaughtered.” Lincoln turned to her, this time speaking to her as Lexa and not as his _Heda_. “Let me help them.” He dared to ask a second time.

She indifferently stared him in the eyes as she ordered for him to be taken away. “ _Sis em op_.”

Lincoln tensed. Bellamy was still inside that mountain and Octavia wasn’t going to leave him behind. And Lincoln wasn’t going to leave Octavia behind; not without a fight. Two warriors approached him to restrain him and he briefly fought back until one of them knocked him over the head, temporarily stunning him. They grabbed him under the arms and began dragging him away.

He waited for Clarke to intervene, waited for Clarke to tell Lexa he was her people and to let him go. He could still help her if she would just say the words.  She remained silent, betraying him once again and leaving him helpless and at the mercy of _Trikru_ laws.

* * *

The Commander’s guard brought him back to the _Trikru_ base-camp and tied him to a tree to await Lexa’s decision regarding his newly regained status as a _natrona_. He was expecting to be spat on, maybe even roughened up a little, but they didn’t touch him except to transport him and tie him up.  

He wasn’t the only one upset with Lexa’s decision to form a truce with the Mountain Men. They had already won the battle by getting that door open yet Lexa had capitulated to the Mountain Men’s conditional surrender, leaving the Sky People behind as some sort of consolation prize.

It was one thing to abandon the Sky People but it was another to allow the Mountain Men to get away with their fifty years of slaughter. Thousands of people across the twelve clans had gone missing over those last fifty years, disappearing inside the Mountain forever with no closure and false hope for those left behind.

Lexa claimed she made the deal with her head and not her heart but it had been all heart: her love for her people above all else. Her people, however, had wanted blood from the Mountain Men, not peace with them.

The base camp was emptying out as the warriors dispersed; the battle over, their people returned. Many left right away, eager to return home to see friends and family again. A few were waiting until daylight when the Commander and the bulk of her forces were leaving to return to _Polis_.

Indra strode through the empty camp, everyone already gone or asleep except for his lone guard. Octavia hadn’t come back with her, as he had known she wouldn’t. Caris, the _Sankru_ Second, had told him when she brought him water that Octavia had refused to leave her brother behind. Indra had removed her as her Second and banished her.

“ _Ai na god yu setnes op. Rid yu op_ ,” Indra said to the guard, telling him she would watch Lincoln while he got some sleep.

She came to stand by him and Lincoln was suddenly disgusted with it all. “How could you do this?”

“I swore loyalty to this commander.”

“She left our allies to be slaughtered.” Like Indra had left Octavia. “She dishonors us all.”

“And your disobedience dishonors you.”

“Why are you here, Indra?” If it was to insult him and call him a _natrona_ , he’d had enough of that already.

She crouched down next to him. “Because you are also _Trikru_ ,” she said, surprising him with her answer.

He might be _Trikru_ but Octavia no longer was. “I can't just let her die.”

“Under the terms of the truce, the lands surrounding the Mountain are forbidden. If you violate this, Lexa will never take you back.” Lexa, not Indra. Indra was telling him she did not fully support the Commander’s decision. “Octavia made her choice. Now you make yours.” With that, Indra stood up and walked away.

Lincoln had made his choice long ago when he had saved Octavia that first time. He would always make that same choice: Octavia. His hand reached for the knife Indra had left behind.


	39. Makes You Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The middle part of Blood Must Have Blood, Part 2. Lincoln gets his revenge and finds Octavia.

* * *

It was unsurprisingly easy escaping from the nearly empty _Trikru_ sub-camp; Indra had sent everyone else off to sleep. Tied to that tree, he had spent most of his time distracting himself from thoughts of Octavia in the Mountain by thinking about Octavia in ~~his~~ their cave. Now he was finally free and all the urgency and worry for her came flooding back.

He headed for the Reaper tunnels, the only way left into the Mountain. His fear for Octavia outweighed his fear of the Red monster lying dormant within. He promised her long ago that he would always come back for her as long as he lived. He hadn’t failed her yet, even returning from death once, and he wasn’t going to fail her this time.

Red. He smelled Red. Red outside the mountain. His tongue flickered out to lick his lips, his taste buds searching the air. Another scent. Sickly floral. He froze, the fragrance hauntingly familiar. Every nerve in his body went on alert; his hair prickled and his heartbeat slowed as adrenalin pumped through his system.

The man in the vest.

He was nearby. Clarke had given him a name. Cage Wallace: the man who continued tormenting him in his nightmares, turning Lincoln into a cannibalistic monster again and again every time he closed his eyes. A flashing light reflected off the pre-dawn fog. Lincoln held still as his prey drew nearer.

“Who's there?” Cage called out, looking around in paranoid fright. “Show yourself.”

Lincoln showed himself, unsheathing his sword as he cut through the night as his blade would soon cut through the man in the vest. He let out a red roar of rage as he charged at the true monster of the Mountain.

He was slammed to a stop as his ears rang red. The screech! The deafening, paralyzing screech! Shrill and painful, it was his undoing once again. Red failure. He collapsed, mere feet away from his prey, his head in a vise, his muscles jerking and jolting involuntarily. Red failure. NO! He struggled to get up, struggled to fight back, struggled through the piercing in his ears and the lead in his veins that weighed him down and kept him from his victory. NO!

“I got something for you.” Cage held up a syringe of Red. Red. Red. NO! “This is for you.”

_Gyon op nodotaim!_

His fingers found the hilt of his sword and enclosed around it as if it were Octavia’s hand in his, anchoring him. He could do this. He tightened his grip; swinging up with all the force he could muster, willing the momentum to carry him through the Red tone’s paralysis. The blade sliced through Cage’s wrist, his hand falling disembodied to the ground, stopping the Red screaming as Cage’s own screaming took over. Cage fell to his knees, clutching at his red gushing red bleeding red wrist.

Lincoln picked up the discarded red syringe of Red. Red. Red. RED.

RED!

“No.” Lincoln jammed the needle into the man in the vest’s neck.

The Red fluid drained out of the syringe as the man in the vest’s eyes rolled back into his head. He fell face-first into the dirt before flopping over onto his back, seizing and convulsing under the power of the Red.

“The first dose is the worst.”

Lincoln waited until the death rattle escaped from the man in the vest’s lips before tossing the emptied syringe on the corpse of his demon. Victorious.

The man in the vest had come from the Reaper tunnels so Lincoln continued on, still feeling that Red pull, guiding him to what he still craved. Octavia. Her pull was stronger.

Dawn was breaking as he neared the entrance to the tunnels, stopping at the sound of a muted commotion ahead. There were people moving about, lots of them, their voices were meager whispers into the wind. Every now and again, an order was shouted out, mumbled by the time it reached Lincoln. He melded into the trees and crept closer, fearing that the Mountain Men had already succeeded and were now on their way to freedom. He refused to consider what that meant for Octavia and the rest of the Sky People.

He stopped moving once he reached the path they were following, staying hidden as he waited for the crowd to draw closer. There were people sobbing. Not Mountain Men. He swiftly made his way toward the group, breaking through the tree line, searching for Octavia. Someone screamed when they saw him standing there with his bloodied sword still out and his war paint smeared.

“Lincoln!”

He dropped his sword to catch her as she leaped into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him as he buried his face in her neck, their cheeks pressed together. He didn’t put her down. Not yet. He couldn’t let her go.

The newly freed Sky People moved past them, ignoring their reunion in their eagerness to get away from the Mountain. Lincoln finally, ever so slowly slid Octavia back down to her feet, still holding her in his arms as he silently thanked the ancestors for giving him one more day with his angel of light.

"Clarke said you were taken." Her hands clutched at the front his jacket, not letting him go, staring up at him in dampened elation.

"I got away." His hands ran up and down her arms, needing to feel her beneath his fingers, needing to know she was real and not a Red hallucination.

"Indra?"

He nodded.

She gave him a brief, tremulous smile before her brow furrowed. She shoved her face into the folds of his jacket as her shoulders rose up and she let out one great, heaving sob before sucking back a second one. She inhaled and exhaled against his chest twice before stepping away with her warrior visage back in place.

There was a new look in her eyes he had never seen before, one he hoped he would never see. It was a look battle-hardened warriors came home with, traumatized from the atrocities of war. A look he had seen too often in his own reflection. His brave angel had been broken and now she needed him to help her put the pieces back together again.

Together. They were together again. They could survive anything together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! I’m now pre-emptively taking prompts to keep me occupied over the long weekend. Anything you wanted to read about but didn’t? Any other characters, scenes, or missing scenes you want me to write about? Just want to chat? Find me on tumblr: my ask box is open and anonymous is turned on.


	40. After the Battle is Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of Blood Must Have Blood, Part 2.

 

* * *

The newly freed Sky People continued walking past them, filtering by in pairs on the narrow trail. They stood there, simply hugging and holding each other. He needed a moment longer to revel in her existence. They had survived and they were together.

“I’m sorry, Lincoln,” Octavia finally said with a hard jaw. “Cage escaped.”

“No, he didn’t.” Lincoln tugged her back in close to him, this time kissing her, needing to taste her love on his lips. Her eyes squeezed shut as her mouth opened against his. It was a quick, passionate kiss to remind them of everything they had been fighting for.

He released her when he saw Bellamy approaching out of the corner of his eye. Bellamy was bringing up the rear of the freed Sky People, finding assistance for those who needed it, giving hugs and comforting words to help them continue on. Octavia turned, taking his hand in hers as Bellamy walked over to them, his jaw clenched.

Lincoln swallowed, feeling the tears in his soul welling up in his eyes. He had left this man to die. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” He searched for words to convey his remorse but none came to him.

Bellamy’s pensive expression was back, this time tinged with a devastating horror that Lincoln knew nothing about. Bellamy squared his jaw and nodded once. He held out his hand to Lincoln. Lincoln took it and was startled when Bellamy pulled him in for a hug, their cheeks pressed together in the _Trikru_ greeting.  

“We’re family now,” he whispered into Lincoln’s ear. “Family forgives each other.”

As Bellamy stepped away, Lincoln discreetly brushed a tear from his cheek.

* * *

It was a long, silent trek to Camp Jaha. Even though they were all traumatized and weakened, no one wanted to stop for more than a few minutes at a time, not even those who could no longer walk. The stronger carried the weak, each one assisting another, their battle bonds strengthening on their weary journey home.

Both Monroe and Sergeant Miller had ended up captives of the Mountain Men. It pleased Lincoln that his warriors had persevered even after Lexa had sounded the retreat. Sergeant Miller had been reunited with his son and they now took up positions around the group, a protective detail for the weaker in the middle. Clarke was there, too. She had stayed behind at the Mountain and gone in after her people as he knew she would. She avoided Lincoln and he didn’t push it.

Lincoln was once again separated from Octavia as they played scout for the bedraggled group. Even though he encountered other _Trikru_ scouts in the trees, they were there to observe and not to harm. The Commander was checking up on them. As they drew nearer to Camp Jaha, Lincoln went on ahead to announce their miserable homecoming, bringing back guards to assist those in the worst conditions.

Once they were close enough to the Sky People’s camp, he and Octavia rejoined the parade of lost souls, no longer having to worry about further threats to the returning wounded.

She was silent as she walked next to him, staring straight ahead with vacant eyes, reliving whatever horror had occurred within the Mountain that had left them all mute and shell-shocked. He knew all of the Mountain Men were dead but he didn’t know much else. When she was ready, he would be there to listen. For now, he would hold her when she cried.

“I don’t belong there,” she said, at last breaking the silence. “The Ark was never my home.”

“We can still go to the _Floukru_.” He wanted to both laugh and cry at his own suggestion.

She shook her head, her eyes still staring forward. “Bellamy needs me right now.” She reached out for his hand, taking it in hers. “What about Indra? Is there any chance...?”

He was already shaking his head. “She is loyal to Lexa and we both broke the truce. Lexa won’t take us back.”

They lapsed back into silence, each one caught up in their own thoughts. At least away from the _Trikru_ , Octavia would be safe from Lexa. She knew the truth about the _Tondisi_ bombing and with the Mountain Men gone and the Sky People alliance now broken, Octavia's knowledge became a new threat to the Coalition. Lincoln supposed he was a threat, too, but since he was once again labeled as a _natrona_ , it was just another target on his back.

“Camp Jaha it is.” Octavia interrupted the quiet, having decided her fate. She sighed so heavily it sounded more like a sob. “I’ll understand if you leave.”

He knew she was being overly sensitive so he tugged her into his side, his arm sliding around her. “We’re in this together, _Houmon_.” Whether it was living in an enemy village or anywhere else on this hellish planet, it didn't matter where he was as long as he was with her. She was his home. He kissed the top of her head.

A murmur spread throughout the bedraggled group of survivors. The wreckage that formed the base of Camp Jaha soon became visible, poking out from the tops of the trees. She stepped away from him but kept his hand firmly clenched in hers.

“I am not afraid.” She straightened her shoulders and held her head high.

They were returning to a place that had not welcomed either of them, a people neither of them knew, a culture foreign for both of them. They would get through this because they were together. As they strode through the gates, he stared menacingly, scanning the crowd of Invaders and automatically looking for threats, his body tensing as he entered enemy territory. No, the Sky People were no longer the enemy.

The battle was over. Now it was time to mourn.


End file.
